Butterfly Wings
by SilverCookieDust
Summary: Lily Potter made a mistake nine months before Harry was born: Severus Snape, not her husband, was Harry's father. The ripple effect of this reaches far: Snape dies young, Harry calls vampires family, and Lucius Malfoy seeks to destroy Voldemort. But one thing remains the same – the inevitability of death.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Major Character Death. Attempted Child Molestation. Minor Drug Use. Mild Violence/Gore. Master/Slave Relationship.  
References to off-screen child abuse and rape.

 **Disclaimer:** This story contains minor appearances from character from the TV show _Supernatural_ , but it is primarily a Harry Potter fanfic, thus I will not label it a crossover.

 **Pairings:** Harry Potter/Theodore Nott. Remus Lupin/OMC. Background het and femslash pairings.

 **Chapter 1**

 _"I thought we agreed not to see each other again, Lily."_

 _"I know, but I'm pregnant, Severus."_

 _"… is it mine?"_

 _"I don't know."_

 _*BW*_

 _"My potion's clear, his is red. What does that mean?"_

 _"It means I need to enact a disownment spell and you need to prepare an adoption ritual, Potter."_

 _*BW*_

 _"He's MY son, Sirius."_

 _"A part of him is Snape's son too, James, and I'm sorry but I can't be his godfather."_

 _*BW*_

 _"REMUS!"_

 _"Sirius, I—"_

 _"You son of a bitch, how could you?!"_

 _"Sirius, please, let me exp-"_

 _"You sold them out! You killed them! Lily and James are DEAD because of you, and you kill Peter too?"_

 _"What? Peter's dead? I didn't—"_

 _"LIAR! Don't pretend you don't know. After everything we did for you and YOU BETRAYED US ALL!"_

 _*BW*_

 _"Junior Auror Black, your attack against the Death Eater Spy Remus Lupin, resulting in his comatose state, was a display of excessive force. However, we understand there were extreme mitigating circumstance and your suspension will be lifted pending a review by the department psychologist."_

 _*BW*_

 _"Mr Black, this is most irregular!"_

 _"I don't care. The law clearly states that a prisoner has to be found fit for execution, and there's no exception to that for werewolves. None of us know what'll happen come the next full moon, so for the safety of the public he has to be kept confined until such a time as he is judged fit for execution. I am providing the funding to build a secure facility for precisely that. If and when he wakes up, you can have him Kissed."_

 _"We do not subject werewolves to the Dementor's Kiss, Mr Black. They are far more dangerous without their soul than with."_

 _"Then make an exception. Behead him with silver immediately afterwards for all I care, but I want to see that son of a bitch Kissed first. His soul doesn't deserve the reprieve of a clean death."_

 _*BW*_

 _"Why are you here, Black? My trial is over, the Auror department has no—"_

 _"I'm not here as an Auror, Snape. I'm here as James' best friend."_

 _"As if that is any better. After what Lupin did—"_

 _"Don't talk to me about him, Snape. I'm here about you, and Harry. I know you're his father."_

 _"No, I'm not."_

 _"You're the closest he has to it, which is depressing, but—"_

 _"What do you want, Black?"_

 _"Take him. Claim Harry as your son. Even disownment can be undone if the adopted parents die."_

 _"You're mad. I'm the furthest thing from suitable parent material. Dumbledore placed him somewhere safe, he assured me of that. Why would you ever suggest I should take him?"_

 _"Safe? Snape, do you actually know who Dumbledore put him with?"_

 _*BW*_

 _"You're not welcome here! Leave! Now!"_

 _"Why? So you can treat the boy like you treated Lily? Either let me in, or I will make you, Petunia."_

 _"Don't threaten me, Severus. I know you're not allowed to use **that** against normal people."_

 _"Do you really think that will stop me?"_

 _*BW*_

 _"Are you going take him away?"_

 _"No. Just make sure you don't mistreat him."_

 _"Why do you care, Severus? I know you and Lily fell out years ago. Why this interest in her son?"_

 _"You didn't care much for her either, Petunia. Why did you take him in?"_

 _"She was my sister."_

 _"And she was my friend."_

* * *

Anita Darzi was a witch. At least, Harry Potter—six years and eleven months old—was pretty sure she was a witch. Strange things had been happening at Little Whinging's Primary School, things Harry was pretty sure _he_ wasn't responsible for. He had a few incidents of accidental magic—turning his teacher's wig blue, ending up on top of a roof—but he didn't think he was the one who'd turned the skipping ropes into snakes, made footballs explode into swarms of flies, or caused Peggy Elliot to suddenly start speaking in tongues.

He wasn't totally sure it was Anita until a week before the end of the summer term, when two wizards came to the school. Harry first noticed them at lunch break, when he looked up from boredly ripping up handfuls of grass to see them walking across the playground with the headmistress. They didn't look like wizards, dressed in neat suits instead of robes. They were both quite tall—although Harry, on the shorter side of average, found many adults quite tall—and one had very dark skin, a bald head, and a gold ring in one ear, whilst the other was white and lightly tanned with dark hair and a face that Mrs Stafford, the Year Six teacher, called devilishly handsome.

Harry knew him. He's seen pictures of that man as a teenager and young man, grinning alongside Harry's father. Sirius Black. He was an Auror now, Harry knew; Severus Snape had told him when Harry asked about all the people in the photos with his parents. Snape didn't like Sirius, who'd bullied him when they were at Hogwarts, so Harry didn't like him either. Harry was picked on by his cousin so he had no patience for bullies, even grown up ones.

At the end of lunch, he returned to his classroom with everyone else to find Sirius and the other Auror sitting at the back of the classroom, the child-sized chairs looking exceptionally small under their large figures.

"Children," said Mr Gibbon, the teacher, when they were all seated on the carpet, "these two gentlemen are from Ofsted. They're going to be watching over our lessons for the afternoon, but I want you to just ignore them and carry on like normal."

There was a moment of silence as the children all did exactly the opposite and stared at the two men. Sirius smiled and waggled his fingers in a wave; the other one simply stared.

"They don't look like they're from Ofsted," pronounced Tony Hopper sceptically.

Sirius leant forwards slightly. "What d'you think people from Ofsted should look like?"

"Old."

"Tony!" Mr Gibbon scolded, but Sirius laughed, though his companion didn't.

Tony scowled at Mr Gibbon. "People at Ofsted are old," he insisted. "My grampa works for them and he said all the people at Ofsted are old fogies and he's the oldest fogie of all!"

Mr Gibbon was stumped by this, unsure of how to respond, but Sirius said to Tony, "We're old fogies in training. It's a hard job, being an old fogie, and you have to start practising young. You sound like an expert though; how am I doing?"

"Not very well," Tony told him in an unapologetic tone. "Old fogies aren't so friendly, 'cept to their favouritist grandkid." He paused, glanced at the black man, and added, "He's doing better."

"Hear that, Kingsley," Sirius said. "You'll be a proper old fogie before you know it."

Kingsley's expression didn't change. "I'm storing my friendliness for my favourite grandkid."

This made Sirius laugh. Mr Gibbon cleared his throat and Sirius sat back with an apology, miming zipping his mouth shut but still smiling as he gestured for Mr Gibbon to carry on.

Being almost the end of term, they didn't even have proper lessons and they spent the afternoon doing art. Harry was glad for that. It meant he could sit at a table as far from the two men as possible, discreetly watching them. Some of the other kids were a bit more obvious about it, whispering to their friends in between glances, quietly coming to agree with Tony. They had to when Sirius and Kingsley looked over the classroom with stern gazes more suited to experienced police detectives than school inspectors, when Kingsley never took one hand from his pocket, and when Sirius put on a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

Harry watched it all with his head down, peering over the rims of his own normal glasses. He didn't really need his glasses for art work, only for things like reading, but it was easier to keep them on all the time at school to avoid losing them. His hair, which for a while after bathing would sit like a wild bird's nest atop his head, was moving into the greasy stage that followed and so his fringe hung heavily over his eyes, further hiding his gaze from view.

He watched Sirius look around the classroom, settle his gaze on Anita, who sat at the same table as Harry, and stare for several moments before nudging Kingsley and handing the glasses over. Kingsley put them on and peered at Anita before handing them back and exchanging a few words with Sirius. Sirius got up then and began nonchalantly moving around the classroom, pausing to remark on the occasional painting or drawing as he gradually made his way around to Harry's table. He shared it with Anita, Sarah Carter, and John Gamble, and Sirius crouched between Harry and Sarah. Harry focused so hard on not making it obvious that he was watching the man that he didn't realise he was painting the grass purple.

"What's your name then?" Sirius asked Sarah, who told him and then asked for his. "I'm Sirius. Is that your house?"

Sarah nodded, carefully dabbing green paint along one side to create textured bushes in front of the red-brick building. "That's a funny name."

"I'm a funny person. What about you three?" he asked the rest of the table. "What are your names?"

They introduced themselves, John excitedly, Anita warily, and Harry with just a shrug.

"That's an interesting name. It's nice to meet you, shrug."

"His name's not shrug, it's Harry," Sarah provided helpfully. "Harry Potter."

Sirius stared at Harry, mouth gaping slightly. His grey eyes flicked briefly from Harry's eyes to the scar on his forehead and he made a strange sound, a strangled sort of squeak, and then he snapped his mouth shut tightly. For a moment he seemed to struggle over what to do next, but eventually he said stiffly, "Well. Harry. Grass is green, not purple."

Sarah giggled. Harry flushed, glancing down at his picture.

"I know that!" he snapped. "It's… it's…"

"Art-stick lie-sense?" Sarah provided.

"Yeah!" Harry said, although he had no idea what art-stick lie-sense was. It sounded good and everyone knew Sarah was the best artist in class.

"Uh huh," Sirius said. "Well. Carry on, children."

He got up and stalked over to Kingsley and it was only then that Harry noticed Sirius slipping a wand back into his pocket. He watched with narrowed eyes as Sirius spoke briefly to Kingsley, who glanced over to Harry dispassionately then narrowed his eyes ever so slightly when he looked at Anita, and then Sirius turned and walked briskly out the classroom, ignoring the surprised look from Mr Gibbon.

"I don't think they're from Ofsted either," John said thoughtfully. "He was weird."

Harry said nothing. Kingsley sat back down.

"What's art-stick lie-sense?" John asked Sarah.

"It's when an artist paints something that's not real but it looks prettier. That's why it's a lie, see? But it makes sense because everyone knows why you're lying and that it's for a good reason."

"Oh. Okay."

It was only at the end of the class, when John showed off his painting of a pink dog under a bright blue sun, that they found out it was actually called artistic licence and that Mr Gibbon preferred realism.

* * *

A few days later a new moon hung over Little Whinging and a conveniently placed tree allowed Sirius Black to stand hidden from the street lights, keeping him unseen by any still-awake Muggles that might be looking out their windows. Sirius liked new moons. It was easier to forget about old friends and traitors without that glowing reminder in the sky.

"Sirius."

He didn't jump at the sound of the quiet voice, but only just. A familiar old figure approached, standing beside him in purple robes and fixing his gaze on the house across the street.

"You should know better than to creep up on Aurors, Dumbledore," Sirius said.

"Did you solve the trouble at the school?" Dumbledore asked in reply.

"It wasn't dark wizards."

Surprised flickered across Dumbledore's face. "You said the magic occurring at the school was dark."

"I know, but not by wizards. One of the girls was possessed by a demon. Anita Darzi."

Dumbledore's surprise this time was more obvious. He stared at Sirius. "Demonic possession in a _child_?"

Sirius sighed and nodded. "I noticed her aura was extremely dark through the AR glasses. We got her name and address from the school records, investigated the house and family, confirmed that she was possessed. Also found out the older brother had been abusing her and it looks like she's a witch. We dealt with the possession, told them about magic and put them in contact with a Squib therapist that can hopefully help the girl deal with the possession, and alerted the Muggle authorities about the brother."

Dumbledore shook his head, sighing wearily. "That poor girl."

They were silent for a while. It was a warm night, but neither man was bothered by it in their long robes, cooling charms keeping them untouched by the heat. A cat wandered over, rubbed against Dumbledore's leg, and hissed at Sirius, who responded with a low, canine growl that sent the cat running.

Dumbledore was the first to speak again, voice quiet. "He's safe there, Sirius."

Sirius scowled. "I'm not thinking of kidnapping him."

"Aren't you?"

"No," he answered quickly. When Dumbledore raised a sceptical eyebrow, he sighed. "A little. But I won't. I told you when—after—I just know that Lily's sister is the kind of Muggle my parents talked about, and she'd probably hate for Harry to be living with her, but I won't take him away. You said he's protected there and I… I'm not his godfather for a reason."

"What was it again?"

"If you don't already know—"

"Then you won't tell me," Dumbledore finished with a sigh. "At least tell me—do you wish you were?"

Sirius shifted, eyes staring at the window on the left of number four. There was the faint glow of a night-light visible through the curtains but otherwise the house was dark and quiet.

"No," he said quietly. "They had a good reason to not pick me. I just… seeing him the other day, I couldn't help thinking about them. Wondering how much of them is in him. I could never have been his godfather, but I wish I'd been the Secret Keeper. I wish Lupin hadn't betrayed us all." He paused, then added in a quieter and yet more threatening tone, "I wish I hadn't cursed him as hard as I did so I could see him get Kissed."

"Is that why you had the prison built?"

"Death's too good for him. He ever wakes up, he's getting Kissed."

"They will have him executed anyway," Dumbledore said. "A werewolf with no soul—it's a more dangerous thing than one with."

"Let them, when it's done," Sirius said dismissively. "Let them behead him with silver and burn the remains, but I want to see him suffer first."

* * *

Every summer, the very day after Harry finished school, Severus Snape picked him up from Privet Drive and Apparated him to Cokeworth, where Harry would spend four weeks before Snape had to return to Hogwarts to begin preparing for the upcoming school year.

They were the highlight of Harry's life. He relished those four weeks where he didn't have to put up with his stupid fat cousin who didn't have half as many chores and got all the easy ones, or get called nothing but 'boy' by his aunt and uncle, or pretend to be a Muggle. He didn't even complain about the fact that Snape made him do school work during the summer holiday, because it wasn't boring sums and spelling. Snape taught him how to make potions to cure colds or just to give people fun dreams and help them sleep, letting Harry help him crush beetles and weigh plants. It was one of his favourite things to do with the man, because potions were Snape's passion and he was always most relaxed when brewing.

When Snape picked him up this year, Harry brought up Anita and Sirius as soon as he was settled in at Snape's home.

"Sirius Black was at my school last week."

Snape's expression turned sour in an instant, face darkening with a scowl, hands jerking slightly as if he wanted to grab his wand. "What would an Auror be doing at a Muggle primary school?"

"One of the girls is a witch," Harry told him. He sat on the sofa in Snape's living room while Snape was settled in his armchair. "Anita Darzi. She's been turning skipping ropes into snakes and a football exploded and it was full of bugs and one of the other girls, Peggy Elliot, she started speaking funny after she teased Anita for liking lizards. Then Sirius Black came to my school and Anita wasn't there for the whole last week of term."

"That's a little extreme for accidental magic," Snape remarked, "but Aurors don't investigate incidents of children's magic. Black had no reason to be there. Was he alone?"

Harry shook his head. "There was another man with him. I think his name was Kingsley."

If Snape recognised the name, he gave no indication of it. "Did either of them speak to you?"

"Sirius asked what my name was, but he asked everyone at my table. He stared at my scar. I think he was surprised to see me."

"Hm."

"I don't think he likes me," Harry added, remembering it. "Why wouldn't he like me? You told me he was my daddy's friend."

"He's also a bully, and bullies don't have reasons for disliking people."

Harry thought about this. "You said my daddy was a bully too. Do you think he didn't like me neither?"

Snape's mouth tightened slightly but his voice softened. "I'm sure your father liked you, Harry."

"Do _you_ like me?"

"Do you think I would bring you here every summer if I didn't like you?"

"Why do you like me though?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't like someone if their daddy bullied me. If someone's daddy is a bully they're probably a bully too. Dudley is, just like Uncle Vernon."

Snape leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, dark eyes boring into Harry's green ones. "Are you a bully?"

"No!" Harry cried before Snape even finished asking. "I don't bully people."

"Then I have no reason to dislike you." He leant back again, glancing away. "You take after your mother, Harry. She was my friend and I owe it to her to make sure you grow up well."

"Does that mean you'll take me away from my aunt and uncle?" Harry asked slyly. "I'd grow up good if I wasn't living with them."

Snape gave him an unforgiving look. "I've told you before—No. There are protections on your aunt's house that keep your safe from the Dark Lord."

"But he's gone, you told me."

"But not dead, and we don't know how long he's gone for or where he's gone to. Until you're old enough to look out for yourself, you have to stay with your aunt."

Harry puffed himself up, straightening his back. "I can look out for myself."

Snape very rarely smiled, but his mouth quirked slightly at that. "Oh? Do you know the wand movements for a basic shield charm? Or the incantation?"

Harry drooped. "No."

Snape stood up. "I'd better show you then. Get your trainers."

Harry leapt up, running to grab his trainers from their spot by the front door then running back and sitting to put them on. "If I learn to do the shield charm, can I leave my aunt's house?"

"You can leave your aunt's house when you're a qualified wizard."

Harry considered that. "Will I be qual-ee-fed if I learn the shield charm?"

"Qualified," Snape corrected, and carried on only when Harry repeated it correctly. "No. You'll be qualified when you're seventeen."

Harry scrambled up, laces trailing. "That's forever away!"

"It's ten years."

"Yeah, forever!"

Snape scowled. "It's not forever, it'll be over before you know it. Now do up your laces so we can go before I change my mind and you can spend the afternoon helping me clean the kitchen instead."

The field where they practised spells was an hour's walk from Spinner's End, abandoned and therefore well away from any Muggles that might see them. Snape would show him spells and then let Harry try casting himself. Thus far he hadn't managed to do more than conjure sparks and today was no better, but he enjoyed trying.

On the way back, Snape abruptly grabbed Harry under the arms and jerked him up, making him yelp.

" _Stupid human!_ "

" _I'm not stupid!_ " Harry snapped as Snape put him down, staring at the snake that was hissing at him from between the grass, the one he'd almost trodden on. Then he gasped and grabbed at Snape's sleeve, looking up wide-eyed. "Severus, that snake talked!"

Snape was staring at Harry just as wide-eyed as Harry stared at him, mouth hanging open.

" _Stupid human,_ " the snake repeated. " _Nearly trod on me._ "

" _I didn't mean to,_ " Harry defended himself. " _I just didn't see you._ "

" _Big foot, stupid,_ " the snake hissed once more, then slithered off, disappearing under a bush.

Snape snapped his mouth shut and swallowed audibly. "Harry, you… you're a Parselmouth."

"No I'm not," Harry denied instantly, responding to the tone more than the statement, then asked, "What's a Parselmouth?"

"It's someone who can speak to snakes."

"Oh. But I can't, it was just that snake was talking English."

"No," Snape said quietly, "it wasn't. It was hissing, speaking snake language. You hissed back."

Harry thought about it, frowning. "I don't think I was."

"Trust me, Harry. You were. I don't know what you said to that snake; all I heard was hissing."

"It called me stupid and I said I wasn't. Was I really hissing? Is it bad?" he asked when Snape nodded.

Snape hesitated. "No. Not really, but… Harry, this is important so I need you to listen carefully." He crouched, putting himself more on eye level with Harry. "There are a lot of people who think that being a Parselmouth makes someone a dark wizard. That it makes you evil."

"Why do they think that?"

"Because Salazar Slytherin and the Dark Lord could both talk to snakes, and it's made a large number of people think that Parseltongue—that's the language that Parselmouths speak—is evil."

"But you said it's not."

"It's not. It's just a language, Harry. It makes you no more evil than speaking French would, but not everyone is as clever as I am. You're clever as well, so you have to understand that other people are stupid and think it's bad for you to speak to snakes, and you have to keep it a secret."

Harry nodded, not completely understanding but believing that what Snape said was the truth and agreeing to keep his newly discovered ability secret.

* * *

On the thirty-first of July, Harry woke up early. He had his own room at Snape's house, smaller than his one at Privet Drive but, in his opinion, nicer. At the Dursleys, he wasn't allowed to put anything on the bland magnolia walls 'because it'll ruin the paintwork', even though Dudley was allowed to, and he had plain blue bedding. At Snape's, he had green walls and photos of his parents, he was allowed to tack up any pictures he drew, and his bedding was Care Bears to go with his Bedtime Bear. At Privet Drive, he had almost no toys or games and was forbidden from touching Dudley's; at Snape's, he had puzzles, board games, and a handful of _Famous Figurines_ , a range of magical action figures modelled after various famous witches and wizards. He was intent on collecting them all, but for now only had two four-figure sets—the Hogwarts Founders Edition and the Albion Edition.

He left his room only to use the bathroom then returned and pulled out a colouring book and some crayons and spent almost an hour colouring a hippogriff blue and pink. (Mr Gibbon might prefer realism, but Harry was fond of using his newly discovered artistic licence.) He checked the clock on his wall almost every five minutes and only when it read exactly seven o'clock did he abandon his colouring things and scurry across the hallway to Snape's bedroom, knocking hard on the wood then listening carefully for a response.

"What?" came the gravely, half-asleep reply.

"It's seven o'clock. Are you awake?"

"No."

"Yeah, you are. You're talking. Can I come in?"

There was a grunt, which Harry took to mean yes. He pushed the door open and edged into the dark room, sidling up to the bed where Snape was buried under the covers, just the very top of his head visible. Harry climbed onto the bed, bouncing slightly.

"Sev-e-rus," he sing-songed. "It's time to get up."

"Potter," Snape growled without pulling the covers down, "if you don't stop bouncing I'm going to transfigure your legs into worms."

"You wouldn't really do that," Harry said, but he stopped bouncing nevertheless.

"I would."

"That'd be bullying."

"That'd be revenge, there's a difference. Go back to bed."

"But it's seven o'clock and you said I can get up at seven o'clock on my birthday."

Snape sighed and rolled onto his back, pulling the cover down but keeping his eyes closed. "It's not your birthday."

"Yes it is."

"No, I definitely remember it was your birthday last year."

"It's every year!"

"That sounds greedy."

"Everyone has one every year, so everyone is greedy then. So come _on_. I wanna open presents and Gareth is coming over and you said we can go to the museum today and look at the dinosaur skeletons."

Snape groaned and finally opened his eyes, glowering at Harry but without any real malice. "You're still in your pyjamas. Get dressed and I will get up."

Harry was out of the room in a flash. By the time he changed out of his pyjamas, Snape was in the shower. Harry waited impatiently for him to finish and dress, then grabbed Snape's hand as soon as he came out and tugged him to the stairs, hurrying down almost too fast to be safe. When he reached the kitchen and found a small pile of gifts on the table, he hopped about in an excited little jig.

"Presents!"

"Is that what they are?" Snape asked, yawning. "They look to me like mess taking up my kitchen table."

"Presents aren't a mess!"

"Well if they don't disappear soon then neither of us is getting breakfast and I get grumpy without breakfast."

"You're always grumpy," Harry remarked, earning himself a baleful glare. He shrugged. "Well you are grumpy a lot."

"Open your presents," Snape replied simply. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Eggs and soldiers, please."

Order given, he climbed onto a chair and gave his attention to the presents. There were five, which was only a fifth of what his cousin got every year, but Harry didn't mind. He'd seen his cousin get mountains of gifts at birthdays and Christmas, but he'd also seen Dudley lose interest and abandon half of those gifts within a month of getting them. This, Harry decided, was the result of having too many things to properly give his attention to each of them, so he decided that fewer presents were better.

Three of them were from Snape: a book of stories, some new clothes, and _Famous Figurines: Potion Masters Edition_. The fourth was from Albus Dumbledore; Harry had never met him but every birthday and Christmas he sent a large box of sweets, which made Snape mutter about how all Harry's teeth would fall out. The fifth was from all the other teachers at Hogwarts, a colouring book whose pictures would move when they were filled in with the accompanying magical colouring pencils.

When he'd cleared the wrapping paper away and Snape served up their breakfast, Harry tapped the Famous Figurines box on the side of the table. "Why aren't you in here?"

"I'm not famous."

"Why not? You make really good potions. And you're a Hogwarts teacher."

"Hogwarts has had hundreds of potion masters before me and will have a hundred more after. A person has to be more than 'really good' to become famous."

"But you're super good!" Harry insisted.

"Until I do something unique and worthwhile, even being super good isn't enough."

"Then you should do something like that," Harry said, not entirely sure what he meant. "Then you can have a figurine made of you."

"I don't think anyone would want a figurine of me," Snape told him blandly.

"I would."

Snape didn't respond to that immediately, eating a spoonful of cornflakes. Harry couldn't read his expression, but eventually Snape cleared his throat and said, "That's kind of you to say, Harry."

Harry grinned at him and carried on with his eggs and soldiers. After, he fetched his other figurines and convinced Snape to play with him on the living room floor, taking Glover Hipworth from his new set to brew some healing potions for Morgana Le Fay from the Albion Edition, who got in a fight with Salazar Slytherin. Snape wasn't impressed that Harry declared Morgana the winner.

"Salazar Slytherin was the best wizard of his age."

Harry held up both figures. "Morgana's younger. She doesn't have any grey hair like Salazar. So she'd beat him."

"That isn't quite what I meant. Salazar was an immensely powerful wizard."

"Morgana was a super powerful witch. She could beat him. You just think she couldn't 'cause she's a girl."

Snape frowned. "Where did you get that idea?"

Harry shrugged, setting Morgana's figure down beside Glover to await her healing potion and picking up Rowena Ravenclaw. "It's what Anita Darzi at my school says whenever one of the boys says they can beat girls at anything. Tony Hopper says boys are better than girls at everything, but I don't think that's true because girls are just the same as boys pretty much. They've got the same arms and legs and a brain and stuff. It's just that they sometimes wear dresses or skirts instead of trousers and they have to sit down to pee."

Further discussion was cut off by a sharp knocking at the door. Harry immediately abandoned his toys to leap up and rush over to it. "Gareth's here!"

Snape scrambled up after him, grabbing Harry by the shoulders before he could yank the door open.

"What have I told you?" he scolded. "You do not answer the door, Harry."

Harry pouted. "But it's just Gareth."

"You don't know that. It could be anyone."

"But it's—" He broke off at Snape's glare, shuffling his feet and sighing petulantly. "Fine. 'm sorry."

"Good. Go back to your toys."

Harry started to do so then changed direction and made for the stairs instead. "I gotta get his present!" he yelled back as he clambered up them. He ran to his room, dropped to his knees in front of his drawers and pulled open the bottom one to take out a badly wrapped present, leaving the drawer hanging open when he hurried out again.

When he got downstairs, a young white man about Snape's age was on the sofa, Snape settled in the armchair opposite. He had dark reddish-brown hair tied in a ponytail that reached his lower back, was clad in Muggle jeans and a t-shirt, and there was a large, gaudily wrapped square package sat on the floor beside him. He was Snape's friend and cousin and the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts.

"Gareth!" Harry greeted loudly, bounding up to him with a grin and thrusting the present under his nose. "I got you a present, I wrapped it myself too. Happy birthday. Is that one for me?"

Gareth took the present, lowering it so he could actually look without crossing his brown eyes, but he was smiling. "I don't know. Is your name Harry?"

"You know it is!"

"Then I guess it must be because it says 'To Harry' on it, although I'm not sure why _you're_ getting presents on _my_ birthday."

"'Cause it's my birthday too."

Gareth huffed. "I need to complain to someone in that case. No one asked me if I wanted to share my birthday, and seeing as I'm older I think we'll have to move yours to another day."

"I don't think you can move birthdays," Harry told him earnestly. "Do you really not like sharing with me?"

Gareth's expression softened. "Nah, I don't mind. Are you going to open your present?"

Harry shook his head. "You first."

"Alright. Let's see here…" He tore away the paper with some difficulty, the entire thing wrapped in as much sellotape as paper, but eventually got it free to reveal a brightly coloured mug with his name painted on it.

"I painted it myself," Harry told him, looking nervous. "We went on a school trip to a pottery—that's a place where they make mugs and bowls and stuff—and we were all allowed to paint one thing to take home. Do you like it?"

"It's wonderful, Harry. Thank you."

Harry beamed at him and turned his attention to his own gift. Beneath the paper was a plain brown box, more than half as tall as Harry, and Gareth warned him to open it carefully and from the top. He did so, unfolding the flaps to peer down into the box.

"Lego! Is it a castle?"

Smile almost as big as Harry's, Gareth levitated the pre-built model from the box and set it on the floor. Harry gasped and even Snape, whose mouth had tightened at the cry of Lego and the thought of his house being overrun with little blocks, couldn't contain an astonished noise.

"It's Hogwarts!" Harry cried.

It was, three feet tall and perfectly proportioned, complete with a lake, Quidditch pitch, and the edge of the Forbidden Forest. There was even a Lego squid in the lake. Gareth slid down from the sofa to show Harry where the castle opened up, revealing a Great Hall filled with students and teachers, staircases that could move, and even hidden passageways that Harry would have to find for himself.

"It's so cool!" Harry breathed, staring in amazement. "But Lego is Muggle. How'd you get one of Hogwarts?"

"Built it myself."

"Wow! That must have taken forever!"

"A while," Gareth agreed. "Take a closer look at the people in the Great Hall."

Harry got down on his belly to peer closer, looking over the hundreds of little figures. All four student tables were filled, each with their house crest painted on the front of their black robes, and the staff table had a variety of teachers including, Harry realised, real people. He pulled out the one in the headmaster's chair and held it up for Snape to see.

"That's Dumbledore!"

"It certainly is," Snape agreed, but Harry had already turned back to the castle and was pulling out another figure.

"And you!"

Snape blinked and took it from him. He stared at it for several moments then looked over at Gareth, who didn't bother trying to hide a smile.

"Really?" Snape asked him, and he just shrugged.

Harry spent the morning playing with it, his _Famous Figurines_ now delegated to being the giant villains against whom the Lego characters had to defend themselves and the castle. He was even reluctant to stop for lunch and birthday cake until Snape said they'd be going to the museum afterwards.

As always when they went anywhere near wizards, Snape put a Concealing Charm on Harry to hide the scar on his forehead, then all three of them Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron pub and took the underground to the London Museum of Natural History. Harry spent the afternoon dragging the two adults from display to display, getting them to read the information plaques because he hadn't brought his reading glasses with him, marvelling over dinosaur bones and wax statues, and never noticing when Snape clenched his fists and glared at the other visitors.

"Remind me why I'm here," Snape muttered to Gareth when they were in the particular busy insect section, where Harry had his nose to the glass of the butterfly display cases until Snape called to him to stand back a bit.

"Because you're too pragmatic for theme parks and too soft to not take him out for his birthday."

"I'm not soft," Snape growled in reply.

"You're a little bit soft. Just soft enough for a seven year old." When Snape's scowl didn't fade, Gareth leant in a little and added in a stage whisper, "Don't worry, Severus, I won't tell anyone."

"I'm going to poison you."

"Nah, you won't. Whoa," he added, staring at a woman who'd just entered with another crowd of people. "Don't see that everyday."

He was referring to the woman's attire, which was a navy, 1870s style dress, complete with a matching hat. She completely ignored the looks people gave her, but had a kind smile for anyone that complimented her dress. She was quick to correct anyone that thought she was a museum employee who'd wandered in from the Victorian-era section, gesturing to the young girl with her who was dressed more normally in shorts and t-shirt.

"Why come out like that when she knows she'll get so much attention?" Snape muttered, disapproval evident in his voice.

"Because not everyone cares about the attention they draw," Gareth replied. "She pulls it off well. I wonder if she's single."

"I thought you were in a relationship with Sinistra."

"We're not exclusive."

"Does she know that?"

Gareth scowled at him. "I'm not a cheater. Not in relationships, anyway."

Snape snorted and shook his head. "Harry, are you ready to move on?"

Harry drew away from the butterfly display with some reluctance, but when he noticed the increased amount of people in the room he took Snape's hand and kept close as they headed for the next section.

"Severus, can I get a butterfly pet?" he asked.

"No," Snape answered without hesitation. "Butterflies aren't pets."

"Why not?"

"You can't tame them. They would fly away."

"What if I kept it in a cage?"

"Would you like to be kept in a cage?"

"No, but I'm a person. I'm too big for a cage."

"A butterfly probably feels the same way," Snape told him. "They don't live very long and I'm sure they don't want to spend their few weeks of life stuck in a cage, even a big one."

"I guess. Can I get a different pet?"

"That's not something I can decide, Harry. It would be living at your aunt's home; you would have to have her permission."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "She'll never let me have a pet."

"She'll have no choice when you go to Hogwarts," Gareth remarked. "Every Hogwarts kid deserves a pet and Petunia can stick her objections where the sun doesn't shine."

Harry giggled at that and Snape's mouth quirked, though he tried to hide it.

They went to the gift shop at the end and Harry was looking at a book about gory battles in history when the little girl with the woman in the Victorian dress came up to him. She stood by him for a minute, glancing between the shelf of books and Harry, while the woman with her inspected the adult section of books, and then blurted out, "You shouldn't buy that. It's wrong."

Harry looked at her, startled. The girl was about his own age with black hair tied in a short braid and ears that stuck out from her head. She was of east Asian descent, but her accent was pure northern English.

"How do you know it's wrong?"

"My mum and dad said all history books are wrong because they're written by people who weren't alive when that stuff happened."

"That's 'cause it's not history until everyone that was alive dies. If they're still alive, it's the present."

"My mum and dad were alive when it was history," the girl argued. "My daddy has been alive for ever and ever. He knows all about history."

"You're lying. People can't live for ever and ever."

"My daddy—"

"Victoria! _Vous ne pouvez pas dire aux gens que._ "

The girl scowled up at the woman in the Victorian dress. Harry wasn't sure if the woman was her mother or not; she was white with dirty blonde hair, in her early thirties, but Harry had learnt about adoption just a few months ago.

" _Pardon,_ " the girl said sulkily. " _Mais c'est vrai._ "

The woman didn't answer that, turning her attention to Harry. "What Tori means is her parents are historians that have found evidence contradicting many things the history books say."

"Oh," Harry said. He had a feeling the woman was lying, but wasn't sure how because Tori couldn't be telling the truth about her dad living forever. "What was that language you spoke?"

"French, if I'm not mistaken," Gareth answered before the woman could, coming up beside Harry and smiling charmingly. The woman didn't return it.

"You speak it?"

"Not very well. It's been a while since I learnt. But let me think… _Votre robe est belle._ "

"Your accent is terrible," she told him, smiling, "but you said it right at least."

He continued with the French accent as he said, "I think my French accent is better when I speak English, _oui_?"

" _Non,_ " the woman said, laughing. "That's terrible, sir."

"Ah, well. A man can try. I'm Gareth, by the way," he introduced, holding out his hand. She shook it.

"Jennifer. Is this your son?" she asked, gesturing to Harry.

"No, I'm a friend of his godfather. That would be the grumpy fellow in black standing by the keychains."

Godfather was the lie they always used when out and about. Harry knew it wasn't true, but he liked to pretend it was because his real godfather was in a specially built prison for part-human creatures, imprisoned for betraying the Potters to Voldemort.

"Why's your godfather grumpy?" Tori asked Harry.

"He's not, that's just his normal face. His grumpy face looks more like this." He attempted to imitate one of Snape's scowls, but smiled instead when Tori laughed. He put back the book he'd been looking at—accurate or not, the pictures weren't good enough for him—and instead picked up one about butterflies. "Are you French?"

"No, but Jennifer used to live in France and so did my mum and dad, and we have a holiday home there so we all speak French. We've got ones in Italy and Greece, too, but I'm not so good at them."

"Wow, you must be really rich. Is Jennifer your godmother?"

Tori shook her head. "She's my gov'ness."

"What's a gov'ness?"

"It's like a babysitter only they live in your house and teach you stuff and help look after you and stuff."

"Don't your mum and dad look after you?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yeah, but when they're busy or at—" She cut herself off, glancing at Jennifer.

"At work?"

Tori looked back to him. "Yeah, at work. What's your name? Mine's Victoria but everyone calls me Tori, except when I'm in trouble."

"I'm Harry." There was an awkward pause between them, each struggling to find something to discuss. Gareth and Jennifer were talking animatedly, clearly getting along, and Snape was scowling at everyone in the vicinity. Eventually Harry gestured to the stuffed animal dangling from Tori's hand and asked, "Do you like tigers?"

Tori lifted the stuffed animal and hugged it. "Yeah, they're my favourite. I've already got four tigers at home, but I want another one."

Five stuffed animals seemed a bit excessive to Harry. He'd had a look through the ones for sale, but there were no butterflies and he figured that seven was a bit old to be getting stuffed animals anyway. People would think he was a baby, so his Bedtime Bear would suffice.

They stayed together for a little while as they looked around the gift shop until Snape finally had enough and demanded they leave. Harry bought the book on butterflies while Tori stuck with her tiger. Outside the museum, they started to say goodbye only to realise they were all going in the same direction and even taking the same train at the underground. Only when they all got off at Leicester Square station did Gareth ask Jennifer, "You wouldn't be headed for the Leaky Cauldron by any chance?"

They were, so they stayed together all the way to the pub. Jennifer asked Harry his age and, when he told her what day it was, she wished him a happy birthday and added, "You'll be in the same year as Tori when you get to Hogwarts then; she turned seven last December. I assume you're going to Hogwarts, that is."

"Yeah!" Harry half-yelled defensively. "I'm a wizard."

She smiled apologetically. "I didn't doubt that, I just wasn't sure if you'd be going to a different school."

That mollified him. "No, my mum and dad went to Hogwarts, so I am too, and Severus and Gareth are teachers there."

"I might not go to Hogwarts," Tori said. "I might go to Beauxbatons like Jennifer did."

Harry was shocked. "But Hogwarts is the best school in the whole world! I've never even heard of Beauxbatons."

"It's in France, and you don't know Hogwarts is the best if you've never been to it _or_ Beauxbatons."

"She's got a point there," Gareth said, cutting off Harry who'd started to defend Hogwarts on principle. He looked at Gareth in shock.

"But you work at Hogwarts. Doesn't that mean you think it's the best?"

"It just means that's where I could get a job. I've spent time at Beauxbatons; it's a nice place. Very beautiful."

"When have you spent time at Beauxbatons?" Jennifer asked.

"After I finished school. I did some extended study there."

"Ah!" Jennifer said with a grin. "Now that's something Hogwarts doesn't have, for all that you like to claim you're the best in Europe."

" _I've_ never claimed we're the best," Gareth said with a laugh.

"We are… lacking… in certain areas," Snape agreed. Harry was shocked by them both.

"But I thought Hogwarts IS the best!"

"We're the best at some things," Snape told him. "Our Transfiguration and Charms departments are unparalleled, and we do produce are large number of highly successful graduates, but there's room for improvement."

"But I thought it was the best at everything," Harry persisted, stunned by the idea that the school they worked at, the school his parents had attended, was now being talked about in such a way.

"Beauxbatons is the best at everything," Tori said proudly. "Isn't it, Jennifer?"

"I'm afraid not, Tori. As Mr Snape said, Hogwarts does have the best Transfiguration and Charms departments. The Potions teacher of my day wasn't very good, either, but I think they've got a new one."

Tori huffed. "I'm going to ask my daddy which school he thinks is best. He knows lots of stuff."

They reached the Leaky Cauldron then and parted ways. Jennifer and Tori used the fireplace to Floo out first. Gareth tapped two fingers to his head in mock salute as he said goodbye to Harry and Snape and also Flooed back to his own home. But before Snape could Apparate Harry away a large man with matted hair and whiskers approached them. He was dirty and smelly and had a smile that made Harry edge behind Snape's legs.

"Snape," the man greeted in a growly voice. Snape turned to him, hand going to the pocket where Harry knew he kept his wand. He didn't look pleased to see the man.

"Greyback."

"Didn't know you had a littl'un, Snape."

"I don't," Snape said stiffly. "I'm just watching him for a few days. Excuse us."

"He's scary," Harry whispered to Snape as they headed for the Cauldron's Apparition room, where people could come and go without worry that they'd get in the way of the pub's patrons.

"He's a very dangerous monster," Snape said back just as quietly. "If you ever meet him again, get as far away as possible."

Harry nodded vigorously; he didn't need telling that twice.

Snape Apparated him back to Spinner's End and they got fish and chips from the takeaway for dinner, had cake for afters, then Snape insisted Harry have a bath before he could play until bedtime. He only kicked up a slight fuss when that came, tired but unwilling to admit it and wanting to play longer with his Lego. He tried to argue that being seven meant his bedtime should be later—or never—but Snape wasn't moved. Harry pouted and dragged his feet as he headed up, grumbled about brushing his teeth and got into bed, but within minutes of snuggling down he was fast asleep.

* * *

Harry spent just over another week at Spinner's End. Most of it was spent playing with Lego Hogwarts, but he also helped brew a couple of simple potions. On the last day they went out to the fields and Snape showed him some new spells and let him try some himself. To his delight, when he attempted the Lumos Spell he managed more than just sparks for the first time and held up the glowing wand. It wasn't very bright and it flickered unsteadily, but it was there.

"I did it! Look Dad, I did it!"

Snape froze. Harry frowned, confused, then realised what he'd just said and flushed, lowering the wand and staring at it as the light flickered out. "I-I didn't mean—'m sorry, I don't know why I said that."

Snape swallowed. "I… that is… it's fine, Harry." He paused, wet his lips, and asked, "Do, uh… is that… is that how you see me?"

Harry shrugged. For a long moment neither of them spoke. Harry didn't know what to say and when he glanced up it occurred to him that maybe Snape didn't either. It would explain why he stood there looking stumped and a little afraid. As Harry had been the one to say something stupid, he figured it was up to him to sort it out.

"I am sorry. I know you're not my dad and you don't want to be, and I promise I won't say it again." It suddenly occurred to him that this might put Snape off bringing him to Spinner's End every summer, afraid that Harry would start really thinking he was his dad, so he hurriedly added, "I really mean it so please don't make me stay with my aunt and uncle every summer."

Snape relaxed ever so slightly at that. "I'm not going to do that, Harry. I promise you, you'll always be welcome at my home."

Harry smiled gratefully, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and he handed back the wand. "Are you mad at me?" he asked as Snape took it. "For calling you that?"

"No. I was just surprised. We should get back."

Harry nodded and they walked in silence together, but the trip back to Spinner's End was an hour's walk and the silence became uncomfortable quickly. Harry had never felt that way around Snape before and he didn't like it, so after twenty minutes, desperate to make things how they were before, he asked, "Can I take Hogwarts back to Little Whinging with me?"

He was pretty sure Snape would say no—the Lego castle was big and would be awkward to move without taking apart, which he was unwilling to do—but it would give him an excuse to argue and pretend to sulk. Pretend, because even if the castle could be moved he wasn't sure he wanted it at Privet Drive, where Dudley might break it down and steal pieces for his own Lego sets.

To his surprise, Snape didn't immediately refuse. "I did wonder if you'd ask that. It's not an inherently magical toy and it would be a shame for it to collect dust in my house for most of the year."

"Really? You'd actually let me?"

Snape's mouth tightened and he didn't look down at Harry. "There isn't really space for it in my house. Even in the living room, it takes up a great deal of room. It would be better suited at your aunt's. Moving it would be difficult, but I may be able to shrink it without it coming apart."

Harry hadn't thought of that and now that it was actually a possibility, he quite liked the thought. There was still the problem of Dudley, however, which he mentioned to Snape. The man considered it for a minute.

"I could enchant it," he suggested eventually. "Either with Muggle repellant, a jinx, or charming the pieces together. That would mean you couldn't take it apart yourself."

"Even the moving bits?"

"No, they would still move."

"Okay. I think that would be good. I don't want to accidentally break it either. I don't _ever_ want to take it apart. But what about the people? I don't want them stuck together."

"I can enchant them separately, perhaps to prick the fingers of any Muggle that tries to touch them."

"Is that allowed?" Harry asked sceptically. "I thought you can't do magic on Muggles."

"Strictly speaking, I wouldn't be. I would be enchanting an object for a magical child. If your Muggle family happened to interfere with that…" He shrugged. "I can't be held accountable for their actions."

Harry grinned and Snape gave him a slight smile back, which for him was practically the equivalent of a normal person's grin, and the awkwardness of earlier was gone. When they got back to Spinner's End he bugged Snape to start enchanting the castle immediately, then hovered around him as he did it until Snape snapped at him to go pack his bags for the morning. He did half of it before getting distracted by his _Famous Figurines_. They were far too magical to take back to Little Whinging, so he decided he needed to play with them as much as possible now before he left in the morning.

It was a warm summer, even late into the night, and that evening Harry and Snape sat out in the small garden with mugs of cool milk and coffee, respectively. The garden was neatly trimmed but lacking any plant-life besides the grass, a few bushes, and a single apple tree that never produced any fruit. Being at Hogwarts most of the year, Snape didn't have the time for tending a proper garden. There were no outdoor toys, but Harry didn't mind as there was a playpark a few minutes' walk from the house and Snape would take him a couple of times a week.

It was a clear night, the stars and full moon easily visible, and Harry pointed up to them. "We learned about stars in my science class."

"What did you learn about them?"

"That they're super big—even bigger than the whole world—and really, really far away. Even further than Australia, which is all the way on the other side of the world, and they only look small because they're so far away. We also learned that the sun is actually a star, but we call it the sun because the people from a long time ago didn't know it was a star when they named it."

"That—" Snape began, then broke off, back straightening, expression alert as he set his coffee down on the small garden table. Harry sat up straighter too, alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

Snape shushed him, cocking his head as he listened hard, hand drawing his wand from his pocket. For several long moments they were silent. Harry tried to listen, but all he could hear was crickets and the slight rustle of a breeze through the apple tree. Snape must have heard nothing either, for he relaxed a little and set his wand down, but said, "Drink up. It's time for bed."

Still a little on edge by Snape's actions, Harry did as told without argument, but as he lifted the glass to his mouth there was a growl from the end of the garden. Snape was on his feet in an instance.

"Ins-"

A great big wolf leapt out of the bushes at the end of the garden and Harry shrieked. Snape darted between him and the wolf, wand raised and shouting a spell, but it was already on them and Snape went down with a scream, wand falling from his fingers and curse fizzling out harmlessly without even touching the wolf.

Harry's chair was knocked aside and he fell out of it, crawling away even as something warm and wet splashed across his left side. He turned to look and cried out at the sight of the wolf tearing into Snape's throat, feeling his trousers grow wet with urine. He grabbed the dropped wand and scrambled to his feet, pointing it at the creature as it lifted its head and looked towards him, blood dripping from its jaws, vicious teeth bared in a snarl.

Snape twitched, the skin of his face nearly luminescent under the glow of the moon, mouth open but making only weak gargling noises as blood poured out of his neck. It soaked through his robes, too, where the wolf's claws had shredded his chest.

Harry couldn't remember any spells. Snape had taught him shield charms at the beginning of the summer and, as he always did, he'd tested and tested Harry on the incantation and wand movement, making him memorise every new thing that he learnt, but right now Harry couldn't remember anything. His mind was completely blank.

When the wolf leapt, all he could do was scream and thrust the wand out before him, screwing his eyes shut to the coming death. He smelt blood and felt hot breath and wet saliva on his skin, but teeth never latched onto him. Instead there was a painful yelp and gagging noises and the wand left his hand. He opened his eyes to see the wolf back away, the wand jammed in its throat, choking and staggering as it pawed at its snout trying to get it out.

For a moment Harry just stared, then his senses kicked in and he ran for the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind him and fumbling to twist the key in the lock. He stood at it, staring through the glass partition in the top half at the wolf still staggering around outside. He glanced at Snape, but the man wasn't even gargling now, lying motionless in the blood-soaked grass. Swallowing thickly Harry looked back to the wolf, almost daring to think it would choke and die and he'd be safe, but the wolf vomited, forcibly ejecting the wand, and after coughing and gagging a few more times it turned towards the door, and flung itself at it, making Harry lurch back so fast he fell on his butt.

He hurried up again, running through the living room and snatching down the pot of Floo powder above the fireplace, spilling half of it in the process. The fireplace was too small to actually Floo through, but it was connected to the network and could be used for calls. Harry had never done it before, but he'd seen Snape do it and he tipped the whole pot of powder into the empty grate. It instantly burst into bright green flames that made him step back, then he knelt by it and stuck his head in the fire. For an instant his mind blanked and he said nothing, but the smash of glass from the kitchen frightened his brain to life and he yelled out, "Hogwarts!"

His head spun so much he thought he'd be sick, then it stopped and he found himself staring out into a cosy little sitting room. An armchair was in pride of place before the fire, in which lounged a tall bearded man who looked thoroughly startled to see Harry. Harry didn't wait for him to get over it.

"Help! There's a monster, it killed Severus, it's going to—"

Sharp, hot pain lanced across his back and he was dragged out of the fireplace. He lashed out wildly, hit something soft with his left arm and something hard with his right. He grabbed the hard thing and pulled, realising it was Lego Hogwarts only as it toppled over. One of the towers caught the wolf, who yelped, and Harry rolled, instinctively trying to face what was attacking him despite the agony in his back.

He tried to lash out again as the wolf bore down on him, but his arms were weak now and he barely managed to lightly whack it across the snout. It responded in kind, a paw as big as Harry's head striking him across the face, and he barely felt claws slash his cheek open before the force of the blow knocked him unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I don't want to stay here."

Gareth crouched before Harry in his bedroom at Little Whinging, Harry perched on the edge of the bed. "I know. I wouldn't want to either. But the Hogwarts term starts tomorrow and you can't stay there with me anymore."

"Why not?"

"You know why, Harry. You're not a student and you're not a child of any of the staff. I'm going to be busy teaching and I won't be able to look after you all the time."

"I can look after myself," Harry insisted. "I can stay in your rooms when you're teaching classes. I promise I won't be bad and mess anything up or do anything naughty."

"I believe you, I really do," Gareth said with a sigh. "But I'm sorry, Harry. It's not up to me. Dumbledore is still in charge of your placement, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he said you have to come back here. You have the mirror; you can contact me if you need to."

He nodded to the handheld mirror resting on the bed beside Harry, who didn't even glance at it. It was partner to one that used to belong to Snape, so that Harry could contact him if there was ever an emergency. He'd only ever used it once, when Vernon's sister Marge had visited on Dudley's birthday and whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick hard enough to leave Harry hobbling. He'd called Snape in tears and within an hour Snape turned up on the doorstep of number four. Harry didn't know what he said to Marge, but she had left early and not come back since.

"But what if I turn into a werewolf? I might and then I'll attack my aunt and uncle and cousin and turn _them_ into werewolves, or _kill_ them and—"

"Stop, Harry. You're not going to hurt your family. I'm coming to get you next Sunday, well before moonrise, so even if you are infected you won't—"

"But what if I turn into a werewolf _before_ then?" Harry interrupted urgently.

"You won't. Werewolves only turn on the full moon, never at any other time."

"But what if another werewolf comes to attack me here?"

"It'll be out of luck, because you won't be here, like I just said."

"But what if—"

"You'll be alright, Harry," Gareth interrupted, not unkindly, reaching over to squeeze his shoulders. "There are protections on this house to keep you safe. You have the mirror to contact me if there is an emergency. You'll be okay."

Harry let out a long sigh but nodded and made no more objections. He stayed in his room when Gareth left, listened to his footsteps head downstairs then the soft murmur of voices for a few minutes before the front door opened. Harry went to his window, looking out to watch Gareth leave. He paused at the end of the pathway and turned to look up at Harry's window, tapping two fingers to his head in a salute before waving. Harry waved back and pressed his forehead to the glass when Gareth turned and headed down the street. The chill of the glass was nice against the scars on his face.

He'd just barely survived the werewolf attack. Dumbledore, knowing he couldn't get out of the castle fast enough, had sent Patronus messages to several trusted people in the hope that they would respond quicker than he could. Gareth had arrived just in time to stop the wolf from tearing out Harry's throat, killing the beast shortly before Sirius Black turned up, the animal body turning human in death to reveal Fenrir Greyback. Technically, the killing of werewolves was a crime, but it was a clear cut case of self-defence and the prejudice against werewolves meant that even if it hadn't been, people were rarely brought to court on the matter. Gareth would never be charged.

They healed Harry's wounds just enough to keep him from dying then rushed him to Saint Mungo's, where he'd spent a week. The wolf hadn't managed to bite him, but no one knew if any of the animal's blood or saliva managed to get into any of the various claw scratches, so when the next full moon came—a week into September, the very night before Harry's new term at school began—he would be taken from Privet Drive and tucked into a secured room for the night to see if he transformed. He was dreading it.

He spent two weeks at Hogwarts after the hospital, mostly helping Gareth clear out Snape's rooms and office. Gareth would be taking over as the new Potion Master and Head of Slytherin, which required him to be situated closer to the common room than his normal rooms on the fourth floor, while Dumbledore sought to find a replacement Muggle Studies teacher. The other staff members were at Hogwarts too, preparing for the upcoming school year, and Harry overheard some of them expressing concerns about his involvement with cleaning out Snape's rooms, saying it would make it harder for him to deal with Snape's death. He found it didn't. If it'd been Spinner's End then he thought he might have had problems, but he'd never spent time at Snape's rooms in Hogwarts. He had no attachment to them, so he didn't mind helping Gareth pack Snape's books and clothes away. Snape didn't have much in the way of ornaments or knick knacks, and absolutely no photos.

"Where are they going?" Harry asked not long after they began, pulling books off the lower shelves in Snape's bedroom while Gareth took the ones higher up. There were almost as many here as at Spinner's End and Harry wondered if Snape had even read them all. It seemed like an awful lot of books for one person to read.

"Some of the books will go to the school library, but most of them and his few other personal belongings will go to Spinner's End. His clothes I'll take to a second hand shop in Diagon Alley. But if you find anything you want to keep, just say so."

Harry nodded and carried on. He cleared two shelves before speaking again. "What's going to happen to Spinner's End? Is someone else going to live there now?"

Gareth paused to watch him as he answered. "No. The house belongs to you now."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes. Severus left it to you in his will."

"What's a will?"

"It's a document someone writes saying what they want to happen to their things when they die."

Harry considered that with a frown. "You mean, Severus _knew_ he was going to die so he wrote a thing saying I can have his house? But I'm just a kid, I can't have a house."

"He didn't know he'd die," Gareth told him. "People write their wills just in case an accident happens, like it did with Severus. As for the house, you can have one you just won't be able to live there until you're older, or unless there was an adult to live there with you."

"Can't you live there with me?"

Gareth shook his head apologetically. "I'm not your guardian, Harry, and I have to be at Hogwarts to teach. It's not something you want to hear, but at the end of the month you're going to have to go back to Little Whinging."

He'd been right, it wasn't what Harry wanted to hear. He cried and screamed, sulked and pleaded, and threatened to run away, but it hadn't changed anything. He was stuck with the Dursleys, his only comfort being a magical mirror and the promise that Gareth would take him away next summer, if Harry wanted.

He pulled away from the window and went over to Lego Hogwarts, tucked in the corner of the room. Opening it up, he found the little figure of Snape, down in the dungeon with a cauldron, and pulled him out. As far as Lego figures went, it really was accurate, right down to the scowl painted on his face. It was also the only likeness Harry now had of the man, except for a single photograph of Snape with Lily when they were thirteen; he hadn't liked having his picture taken. Harry found the figure of Gareth and moved it to the dungeon, then closed the castle up and went to his bed. He pulled up his shirt and lay on his front, trying to let the air soothe the itching of his scars, Snape's figure still clutched in his hand.

* * *

Harry was so nervous about the approaching full moon that, to his great embarrassment and his aunt's annoyance, he wet the bed the night before. It wasn't the first time it'd happened since the werewolf attack and was another reason he hadn't wanted to return to the Dursleys—to no surprise, as soon as Dudley found out he teased Harry mercilessly about it.

Harry couldn't decide if it was better or worse than the nights he woke up screaming from nightmares of monsters. At Hogwarts, Gareth had come and sat with him when that happened, calming Harry down until he could sleep again. Here, Petunia scolded him for waking up the rest of the house and Harry would crawl under the bed with his duvet, Bedtime Bear, and Lego Snape and spend the rest of the night muffling his sobs and trying to convince himself he would be okay.

Gareth wasn't alone when he came on Sunday afternoon to pick up Harry; Sirius Black was with him and Harry hung back when they came to the door. They were both dressed in Muggle clothes, but this didn't appease Petunia and Vernon, who were extremely eager to get the two men off their doorstep—and, preferably, as far from Little Whinging as possible.

"What's he doing here?" Harry asked in a small voice, staring past Gareth nervously. "Am I under arrest?"

"Aurors don't arrest children," Gareth assured him. "Sirius is just here to help make sure you're safe and secure in the room we have prepared for you."

"Is he going to kill me if I turn into a werewolf?"

Gareth crouched, hands on Harry's shoulders and expression serious. "No one is going to kill you, Harry, or arrest you, or do anything else unpleasant to you. I will stop anyone who even tries, I promise you that personally. Do you believe me?"

Harry hesitated, glancing past him again to Sirius, who still stood out on the doorstep with his arms folded over his chest. He said nothing, but he gave Harry a small, faint smile, and Harry reminded himself that even if Sirius had been a bully, he'd been James' best friend. He probably wouldn't do anything bad to Harry on that account, even if Harry did feel that Sirius didn't exactly like him.

So he nodded to Gareth and followed the two men out. They would take a Portkey to wherever they were going. Harry thought they should leave straight from the house, but because Dudley didn't know about magic—he thought Harry's injuries had come from a rabid dog—they didn't want to draw suspicion by making him wonder how they'd left the house without going through the front door. Harry thought this was drastically over-estimating his cousin's intelligence and powers of observation.

They used the Portkey in the small alley between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent, a few streets over from Privet Drive, and it deposited them inside a dilapidated room with boarded up windows and so much dust Harry immediately began sneezing.

"Where are we?" he asked when he could speak again, wiping snot on his sleeve and looking around. There wasn't much in the way of furniture and what was there was broken and gouged as if used as a chew toy by dogs. Gareth conjured and lit some candles for them.

"The Shrieking Shack," Sirius answered, a strange lilt to his voice as he looked around.

"The haunted house in Hogsmeade?" Harry gasped. "Mr Nick told me all about that. He said even the Hogwarts ghosts don't go there!"

"It's not haunted. It was used by another werewolf, years ago. People were just told it was haunted so they wouldn't go investigating."

Harry shivered, edging closer to Gareth and asking in a small voice, "Is that werewolf going to be here too?"

"No," Sirius answered in a tone that brooked no argument. "It'll never come here again."

Harry didn't dare ask him why he was so sure.

There was still an hour before the moon rose so they cleared a space to sit and wait. Harry wished he'd brought something to distract himself while they waited, but Sirius drew a deck of cards from his pocket and together he and Gareth tried to teach Harry how to play poker. They didn't do very well, mostly because Harry kept thinking about what might happen when the moon came up and interrupting every five minutes to ask the time.

"Is it gonna hurt?" he asked when there was only ten minutes left. The cards were abandoned, his attention far too distracted to concentrate on poker. When both men hesitated to answer, he had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. "It will, won't it?"

"Yes," Gareth said softly.

Harry nodded, blinking hard against tears. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out Lego Snape, which he'd taken to carrying everywhere with him, and stared at it for a few seconds before holding it out to Gareth. "Can you look after him for me, please? I don't want him to get damaged."

"Of course."

"What is that?" Sirius asked, his expression of confusion only increasing when Gareth held it up to show him.

"It's Lego. Muggle building blocks, with little people to go with it."

Sirius leant closer, peering at the figure. "Is that… Snape?"

"Gareth got it for me," Harry said a little defensively, knowing Sirius' opinion of Snape. "He got me a whole model of Hogwarts with all the teachers for my birthday."

Sirius blinked, sitting back. "Hogwarts? I thought you said it was a Muggle toy."

"Custom built and special ordered figures," Gareth explained.

"Sounds cool."

"How much longer?" Harry asked, peering at Gareth's watch.

"Seven minutes."

Each minute seemed to take an eternity and yet as a whole it felt like no time at all before they passed. Harry sat trembling the whole time, growing more and more anxious, and when there were only a couple of minutes left he leapt up and backed away from the two men, staring at his shaking hands.

"It's happening!" he screamed. "I can feel it, I'm turning into a werewolf! You've gotta go away _now_!"

"We're not leaving until—" Gareth began, but Harry cut him off.

"NO! You're not safe!" he insisted, and when they still didn't move to leave he fled the room, panic growing with every second and the sound of them following him. There was a coat cupboard near the boarded up front door and he rushed inside, uncaring of the dust and spiders that fell on him in the process, and jerked the door shut, holding it in place and panting heavily in the dark.

"Harry?"

"Go away!"

There was silence for a moment then the sound of someone sitting on the floor outside.

"You don't have to come out if you don't want to," Gareth said, "but I'm going to sit out here, alright?"

"I'll hurt you. A werewolf can probably get through this door."

"I've got my wand."

"Severus had a wand too," Harry said quietly.

"I've got Sirius here, so we've got two wands between us, and you're not as big as Fenrir Greyback. I think we'll be okay."

"I don't want to turn into a werewolf."

"It's moonrise. I don't think you're going to or it would have started by now."

"It feels like I am."

"Tell me how that feels."

Harry hesitated, thinking about it. Now that Gareth said the moon was actually up and he no longer had the terrified apprehension of what was coming, he realised he didn't actually feel much of anything. His scars ached, but that was nothing new. He'd thought he felt a tingling in his hands and feet before, but now he focused on them he couldn't feel it. There was some pain in his gum, but that had been there since one of his teeth came loose.

Instead of answering, he asked, "Is the moon really up?"

It was Sirius who answered, sounding a bit further away. "You can come and see for yourself. You can see it through the cracks in the window boards."

Harry considered it, but—"What if I only turn into a werewolf when I see it?"

"That's not how it works, kid. You turn as soon as it rises, or you don't turn at all."

"How do you know for sure?"

"I'm clever like that."

"That's not a proper answer. Did you read it in a book?"

Sirius didn't answer immediately and for a moment Harry thought he wasn't going to, but eventually his quiet voice came through the door. "No. I used to know a werewolf."

"You mean Remus Lupin," Harry said, shivering slightly. The thought of being the same kind of monster as the man who betrayed his parents made the idea of being a werewolf even worse.

"Yes," he answered almost too quietly to hear. "Did Snape tell you about him?"

Harry nodded, then remembered they couldn't see him. "Yeah."

"How much did he tell you?"

"That Remus Lupin told the Dark Lord where my mummy and daddy were hiding, and then you cursed him and now he's in a coma—that's a special sleep that he can't wake up from because of something wrong inside his head—in a special prison." He paused, then asked, "Does he still turn into a werewolf even though he's in a coma?"

Sirius sighed, there were footsteps, and then the sound of him sitting down. "Yes, he does, but he's still in a coma even then so he can't hurt anyone."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

"You gonna come out now?" Gareth asked. Harry thought about it. It was very dark in the cupboard and there was even more dust and cobwebs than in the rest of the house. Still he hesitated.

"How long has it been since the moon came up?"

"Nearly five minutes."

"You really think if I was a werewolf I would have turned into one by now?"

"Yep."

Cautiously, Harry pushed the door open. Gareth sat just next to it, his back to the wall, while Sirius was cross-legged in the middle of the hallway.

"Not looking very wolfy to me," Gareth said as Harry came out fully.

"I think you're safe, kid," Sirius agreed.

Harry was starting to think so too, but he didn't fully believe it until he went to the window at the end of the hall, insisting the adults not follow, and peered between a gap in the boards to see the big, bright moon hanging low in the sky outside. Only then did he relax and turn to the others with a relieved smile.

"I'm not a werewolf."

"No, you're not," Gareth agreed with a chuckle, getting to his feet and wiping dust from his trousers. Sirius followed suit, returning Harry's smile. "Let's get you back home."

Harry's grin fell. "To Privet Drive?"

"'fraid so."

Maybe being a werewolf wouldn't have been so bad, Harry thought, and it must have shown on his face because Gareth offered, "How about some ice cream before we take you back?"

Harry nodded vigorously. That was an offer he definitely wouldn't turn down.

* * *

School began the next morning. The relief of not being a werewolf eased Harry's nerves enough to sleep well that night, but he spent the morning getting more and more worried about it. He knew all the other kids were going to stare at him and ask about his scars. He had his story of a rabid dog to tell them, but he didn't _want_ to talk about it at all, and he didn't want them making fun of him for being mutilated. It was bad enough coming from Dudley.

He took Lego Snape with him, even though students weren't supposed to bring toys in from home, carrying it tucked in his pocket for what little comfort it provided.

His predictions weren't wrong. He and Dudley were now in the same class—each year group having two classes of students—and Dudley wasted no time in telling everyone that his cousin was a bed-wetting crybaby since being attacked by a rabid dog. It didn't stop the kids from staring or asking for details about the attack until the teacher called for their attention, saying they weren't to bother Harry about his scars.

It kept them from asking about it during class time, but didn't stop them staring or from coming up to him in the playground at break, begging to hear the story. He mostly shut down when they did, his throat locking up until all he could do was shake his head at them and back away until one of the teachers on playground duty noticed and came over, shooing away the rest of the kids and staying by Harry's side until the end of break. He took advantage of this and spent every break from then on hanging around whichever teachers were on playground duty. It only reinforced the crybaby label he'd earned, but it kept people from bothering him so he didn't mind.

Being left alone—the teachers didn't talk to him much, save to ask occasionally if he was sure he didn't want to go play with the other kids—gave him a lot of time to watch everyone else. He found it enjoyable to watch other people, to notice Dudley's friends talking about him behind his back, John cheating at stick-in-the-mud, and Heather purposely twisting her wrist wrong as she swung a skipping rope so Sarah would trip and Heather could take her turn sooner.

And to see Anita Darzi glaring at Heather and her friends from the other side of the playground. Harry thought about trying to make friends with her seeing as they were both outcasts. Harry was ostracised because Dudley picked on him and no one wanted to risk Dudley turning his attention on them, too, and Anita was left out because she came from a family of Sikhs and wore a turban. Peggy Elliot, the most outspoken and influential of the girls in their year before she started speaking in tongues, had caused a fuss when she claimed her parents said she wasn't allowed to play with non-Christians. They'd had an assembly about racism and religious intolerance and the Elliots had been called in to talk to the headmistress, but it hadn't stopped many of the kids in their year ignoring Anita most of the time.

Peggy had been cured of speaking in tongues as suddenly and inexplicably as she'd fallen ill, Harry knew from overhearing the teachers talking about it one lunchtime, but she wasn't back at school because her parents decided to send her somewhere else. Mrs Bennett said this was because Mr and Mrs Elliot hadn't been able to convince the school board that Anita was the one responsible for their daughter's ailment and thus deserved expulsion, and then went on to wonder how stupid the Elliots were if they thought some fancy private school didn't have coloured people.

It wasn't the only thing Harry overheard from the teachers, who after a couple of weeks mostly forgot that he was there and could hear them. He also learned that Anita's older brother had been arrested in the summer for abusing Anita, but released on bail and was now living with a cousin, forbidden from going home. Between this, Peggy speaking in tongues so suddenly, and Harry being attacked, the teachers wondered if their year group was cursed. (They _had_ remembered Harry then and promptly changed the subject.)

Harry didn't think they were cursed. He couldn't see why anyone would put a curse on a bunch of seven year old Muggles, except maybe Anita, but he didn't think she could do that even if she did seem pretty good at magic for a seven year old. Even if someone had, Sirius and Kingsley would probably have noticed and removed it when they came to visit.

But even after deciding he would try talking to Anita, Harry didn't approach her for a couple of months, when it'd been long enough for the children to get used to his scars and lose interest in wanting to know the story. He spent a few weeks plucking up his courage, afraid she would turn him away for being a freak or just for being a boy—most of them didn't play together because of cooties.

Harry wasn't totally sure what cooties was, only that there was a version for boys and a version for girls and catching it from the opposite sex was _bad_. Snape had told Harry that wizards weren't affected by Muggle diseases so Harry wasn't worried about catching girl cooties, but Anita wouldn't know about their magical resistance to it and she might not give him the chance to explain, or believe him even if he did explain. By the time he did work up the courage to leave the teachers and go talk to her, half term was upon them and he balked and decided to approach her afterwards.

Half term meant Hallowe'en. In Privet Drive this meant Dudley consuming an even larger amount of sweets than normal whilst demanding an elaborate costume for trick-or-treating. Harry was never invited to come, but he didn't care. As much fun as dressing up and asking for sweets from the neighbours might be, Harry wasn't going to do it on the anniversary of his parents' death. It just didn't feel right.

It was worse this year, the grief of Snape's death amplifying the loss he felt for his parents not only through sheer emotion, but because Snape normally came to pick him up at half past four every Hallowe'en to take him to Godric's Hollow so Harry could visit his parents' grave. In a way he didn't really understand, it gave Harry a sense of connection he couldn't get from pictures and stories, even though it made him sad. He didn't want to lose that.

He spent most of the day miserable and bitter, moping about the house until Vernon yelled at him to go and sulk in his bedroom. He tried playing with Lego Hogwarts, but wasn't in the mood, nor did he feel like playing with the _Famous Figurines_ that were hidden under a loose floorboard beneath his bed, with _Wizarding Cluedo_ and the magical puzzles that were normally left at Spinner's End most of the year. With Snape dead, Harry couldn't bear the thought of them being left there. He knew it was stupid because the house had been empty before for most of the year, but it still bothered him so Gareth had brought the toys to Privet Drive for Harry, helped him find a place to hide them, and enchanted the loose floorboard so only Harry could pry it up.

The more the day wore on, the more grumpy Harry got. He didn't even want to join the Dursleys for dinner—Snape used to take him to the pub in Godric's Hollow for burger and chips before returning him home—so when the doorbell rang at half past four, when Petunia was starting to cook dinner, Harry was hiding under his bed in a sulk and prodding at the bedsprings. He heard the front door open, the brief murmur of voices, then footsteps climbing the stairs. He ignored the knock on his door, at least until a familiar and highly unexpected voice said, "Harry? Can I come in?"

He scrambled out, banging his head on the bedframe as he went, and jerked the door open, staring up in disbelief at Gareth. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Coming to get you. I know Severus took you to Godric's Hollow every Hallowe'en. Do you still want to go?"

Harry nodded without even thinking about it.

"You should probably find some shoes then."

Harry glanced down at his bare feet then ran to his drawers, pulling it open to get some socks and sitting to pull them on before hunting down his trainers and fetching his coat, ready to go in just a few minutes. He would have left the house without saying anything to his family, but Gareth insisted on mentioning to Petunia that they were leaving. She responded with only a glare at Gareth's robes, cloak, and pointy hat.

It wasn't quite dark enough for trick-or-treaters yet, but there were a few kids playing outside who called out compliments on Gareth's wizard 'costume'. They walked to the narrow alley between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent and Gareth Apparated them away. They reappeared in a small woodland at the edge of Godric's Hollow and walked the rest of the distance, coming out the woods just before the first houses appeared. The road they came in on was the same road with the house where Harry's parents had been killed and he grabbed Gareth's hand as they passed it, unable to keep from glancing at it even though he hated it. It made his heart ache to see the half-destroyed house that was a home he could never remember.

He did like looking at the statue in the village square, staring up at the life-size replica of his parents. He knew they were only stone, but it still felt like his parents were watching over him a little. He felt that even more strongly in the small church graveyard, where he would kneel before the double-sized headstone and tell them he missed them, and about the spelling test he did well on, and the race he'd won in P.E. Maybe it was the date and the dead being said to press on the living world this day of the year, but it almost felt like they were really there listening to him.

This year he hesitated to speak though. He knelt and wiped away the plants that started to grow up over the past year then sat back on his heels.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad," he greeted quietly, then said nothing else. He was more aware of Gareth waiting a respectable distance away than he'd ever been of Snape. He wanted to explain why Snape wasn't there, but he couldn't find the words to say it and after a minute of sitting in silence, throat growing tight, he got up and went over to Gareth.

"Can you tell them?" he asked, trying not to cry.

"Tell them what?"

"About… about Severus. I don't know what to say."

His voice shook and he worried that Gareth would say something dismissive, but the man just nodded, moving forward and getting to one knee before the graves while Harry stood at his shoulder.

"Hey, Lily, James. I'm Gareth. I…" He paused and turned to Harry. "Did you tell them about me?"

Harry nodded. Gareth looked back to the grave.

"I'm here today instead of Severus because… I'm afraid I have bad news. A few months ago, Severus was killed. A werewolf attacked his home and Severus died protecting Harry from it." He paused and Harry thought he was trying not to cry. He'd lost that battle himself, tears dripping unchecked down his cheeks. "I know we never met when you were alive, but I hope you'll believe me when I say I promise to look after your son in Severus' place."

He took a shaky breath and stood, squeezing Harry's shoulder before moving back again. The news out now, Harry felt more able to talk. Before he even realised it he was telling the whole story of what happened in August, the words spilling out of him uncontrollably, punctuated with sobs. It was the first time he'd really spoken about it since it happened.

When his tears overwhelmed him and he couldn't speak any more, Gareth dropped beside him and offered his arms for a hug, which Harry threw himself into gladly, wailing into the man's chest and grateful for the soothing hand rubbing at his back.

* * *

School resumed two days later. The visit to his parents' grave and finally talking about the werewolf attack had eased something in him, made him feel a little less afraid than he had in months, and he had the nerve to leave the teachers and approach Anita on the very first break. As usual, she was hanging about near the back of the playground where it bordered the grassy area, which they weren't allowed on today because it'd rained that morning.

Despite his decision, he was still a little nervous so he spent ten minutes slowly sidling up to her instead of directly approaching. When he was within a few feet he stood nervously, hands fidgeting, rocking on his heels slightly, until she said, "What do you want?"

"You wanna play?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Play what?"

"Um…" He hadn't thought that far ahead and cast about. All the skipping ropes were claimed, as were the two decent footballs, but while the third one was useless for kicking around it still had enough form to it for throwing. "Catch?"

She glanced over at the ball. "I'm not playing catch with that. It's rubbish."

"Oh. Okay. We could play tag?"

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It's fun?"

"But we're not friends," she pointed out.

"Do you want to be?"

She was so surprised by his question that her jaw dropped. Then she snapped it shut and squeaked, "Me?"

"Yeah. I thought we could be friends 'cause we both don't have any. If you wanted."

She scowled slightly at that, but glanced over towards Heather and her friends in the process so Harry didn't think the scowl was at him. She still seemed hesitant to accept him, though, so he edged a little closer, glanced around to check no one was close enough to overhear him, and whispered, "I know you're a witch."

Her eyes widened. "How do you know that? The wizards said we're not allowed to tell Muggles!" she said in a hushed voice.

"You know about Muggles? What wizards?"

"The ones that came and told me and my parents that I'm a witch in the summer. They said I can do magic and after primary school I'll go to a magic school called Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, sitting down beside her. "Me too. I'm a wizard. Hogwarts is really great. It's in a big castle. I got to go there this summer."

To his surprise, Anita looked wary at this. "Is that where you got attacked by the dog?"

"No. It wasn't a dog anyway, it was a werewolf, but Muggles aren't allowed to know that so you can't tell anyone."

"What's a werewolf?"

"It's a person that turns into a wolf on the full moon."

"That sounds scary. I don't know if I'm going to go to Hogwarts."

"Why not? Do you want to go to a different magic school?" First Tori, now Anita. At this rate, he thought, there wouldn't be any girls in his year at Hogwarts at all.

"I didn't know there were different magic schools, but I don't think my daddy likes me being a witch and he wants me to go to a school with more Sikhs and other Indian people."

"A _Muggle_ school? You can't do that!" Harry objected. "If you're a witch, you have to learn magic."

"I want to, but my daddy might not let me." She sniffed then rubbed at her nose as the bell went, indicating the end of break, and just as Harry was about to get up and walk away she said quickly, "We can play tag at lunchtime if you want."

He looked at her in surprise, but then nodded and smiled and they headed to join the children lining up to go back inside. It was a start.

They started playing together from then on and by the time the Christmas holidays came around they called each other 'friend'. They hadn't visited each other's houses—Harry reluctantly admitted that his aunt and uncle were unlikely to let him have a friend over, and Anita said her parents were the same since her brother's arrest. She'd quickly changed the subject after that, as she had the few other times Harry brought her brother up; it was clear she didn't want to talk about him. Harry left it; in return, she didn't ask about the werewolf attack. But they played together at breaks, sat together in the classroom, and they stood together against Dudley when he tried to pick on Harry and against Heather when she tried to pick on Anita.

Harry didn't like Christmas. It was two weeks with only the Dursleys for company, two weeks of listening to Dudley go on about all the presents he expected to get and the foods he planned to stuff his already fat face with. While Harry would get a few presents, he didn't have a family to open them with and share the joy of the day, and he would be allowed a minimal amount of the food. He wouldn't even be allowed to sit at the table for the main meal, instead given a plate of food and banished to his bedroom. The Dursleys didn't want him intruding on their family holiday time; the only thing they dragged him along to was midnight mass. Snape used to come visit for an hour or two in the afternoon or evening, depending on if he had any trouble with the students at Hogwarts, but even that didn't quite make up for having no real family Harry could celebrate the holiday with. For all Dudley's obsession with presents, Harry had come to understand that Christmas was a family holiday, and he didn't have one of those.

He woke up to a small pile of gifts at the end of his bed on Christmas morning, as usual. He assumed they came by some kind of spell; he didn't believe in Father Christmas, but magic was real enough and he knew there had to be enchantments that could get the presents into his room overnight. He had entertained the thought that Snape delivered them himself, sneaking in while Harry slept, but Snape always denied it and Harry didn't think Gareth would do it so he let go of that belief entirely now.

There was no box of _Famous Figurines_ this year, but there was the new winter coat he always got, a book on magical creatures, an etch-a-sketch, the usual box of sweets from Dumbledore, and from the Hogwarts' staff a net that accompanied a box of toy butterflies enchanted to fly. He wasn't sure it was really a good toy to have in a house where he couldn't openly use magical things, but he liked it anyway. He could always say the butterflies worked on batteries. His aunt might figure out the truth, but Dudley would believe it.

Gareth, to Harry's surprise, turned up at the end of lunch. Harry had finished his own meal, but he could hear Dudley demanding a third serving of Christmas pudding downstairs. Vernon was the one to answer the door, his voice getting louder and alerting Harry to Gareth's presence when he half-shouted, "We don't want _your sort_ around here today."

Harry knew by now that 'your sort' was the Dursleys' way of saying 'wizards'; they seemed to have some aversion to saying any actual words related to magic. Harry hurried down from his bedroom, pausing partway down the stairs to look over Vernon's shoulder and smile at Gareth. Vernon was trying his best to shut the door on the wizard, but Gareth had stuck his boot through the gap and as Harry got closer he heard him say, "Dursley, if you don't open this door right now I will stand on your porch and sing carols as loudly as I possibly can, which is definitely loud enough to get the neighbours' attention."

Vernon blanched and stepped back. He didn't like carollers at the best of times; he certainly couldn't handle the thought of the neighbours seeing a man in robes and a cloak belting out 'Jingle Bells' at the top of his voice on Christmas afternoon. Gareth stepped inside, tapping a couple of fingers to his head as he shut the door behind him and grinned at Vernon.

"Much obliged, Dursley."

Vernon glared, face red with the effort it took him not to start yelling at the man, and spun about to storm away.

"I didn't think you'd be so early," Harry said as he and Gareth headed up to his bedroom. "Severus never came until later."

"After lunch is the best time," Gareth replied, shedding his cloak when they were inside the room. "All the Slytherins are too stuffed full of dinner and pudding to cause any trouble. There aren't a lot of them staying at the school this year anyway. Happy Christmas, by the way."

Harry returned the sentiment then looked up in surprise when Gareth drew a small rectangular package from his robes, enlarging it before holding it out.

"For me?"

"Unless there's someone else hiding in the room."

Harry took it. "But why didn't you send it with the other presents? Oh, thank you for my coat," he added dutifully, "and the book and the etch-a-sketch."

"You're welcome. I just wanted to give this one to you personally."

"I don't have anything for you. Only Severus gave me pocket money and my aunt wouldn't take me shopping even if I did have any…"

"It's alright," Gareth assured him. "You don't have to worry about getting gifts for me. Open it."

Harry sat on the floor and did so, Gareth sitting beside him, and his breath caught when he tore away the wrapping paper to find a framed, full-body coloured sketch of Snape.

"I know you don't have any photos of him, so I thought you might like this. I know what it's like to lose someone close to you and not have anything of them afterwards."

"Did you draw this?"

"Mmhm."

"I didn't know you could draw," Harry replied absently, brushing his fingers over the sketch. It didn't move, but he didn't care. He finally had a picture of Snape, something more than a ten year old photo and a Lego imitation.

"Bit out of practice if I'm honest, but I know my way around a pencil."

"It's amazing. Thank you."

* * *

Sikhs didn't celebrate Christmas, Anita told Harry before the holiday, which he momentarily forget when they returned to school in January and he started to ask, "How was your Christ- I mean, holiday?"

She just shrugged, looking miserable, and hung up her coat and bag on her peg in the cloakroom then walked off without saying anything more. She hardly spoke all day and at break she forcibly told Harry to leave her alone when he tried asking if she wanted to play.

"Did you girlfriend dump you?" a sneering voice said while Harry sulkily kicked pebbles about the playground. He'd gotten used to having someone to spend breaktime with.

He looked up at Dudley with a scowl. "She wasn't my girlfriend. Go away."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Dudley sang out of tune. "I bet you even kissed her."

"Yeah," agreed Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend. "She's a girl and she's your friend and that makes her your _girlfriend_."

"Not like _that_ ," Harry defended angrily. "That's stupid anyway. If that was true then you are Dudley are _boyfriends_ and _you_ kiss each other."

For a moment they both looked startled at this piece of logic then Piers, who was by far the more intelligent of the two, twisted his face angrily and snapped, "My dad said only faggot boys kiss each other and I ain't a faggot boy."

"Me neither. You're going to pay for that!" Dudley cried, and then swung a fist at Harry. The fight was short but intense, Dudley and Piers landing several bruising blows on Harry while Harry managed to elbow Dudley in the face and kick Piers in the shin.

Dudley and Piers were quick to point the finger at Harry when the teachers broke them up, but all three were sent to the headmistress' office. Harry tried defending himself, but the headmistress didn't listen. When Petunia and Piers' father turned up they were all too eager to believe their own children rather than Harry.

They were sent home early and as soon as they were through the door of Number Four, Privet Drive, Petunia grabbed Harry by the ear and yanked so hard he thought it would come off.

"How _dare_ you attack Dudley and embarrass our family that way!" she shrieked, ignoring Harry's wails and attempts to get her to let go of his ear. "I'm ashamed to be related to you—more so than usual! You're a cruel, rotten little boy who should have died with his worthless parents. You're going in the cupboard," she said, dragging him down the hallway, past a grinning Dudley, and yanking open the door to the cupboard under the stairs so she could shove Harry inside among the mop, bucket, ironing board, and other bits that were kept there. He crashed into the ironing board, almost bringing it down on top of him, and straightened up as the door slammed shut behind him. The sharp clack of the lock being thrown came immediately after.

"You can stay there while you think about what you've done," Petunia said through the wood then Harry heard her stalking off. Heavier footsteps approached.

"You're going to be stuck there forever," Dudley said gleefully.

It certainly felt like forever. He upturned one of the buckets to sit on and rubbed at his ear, which ached and throbbed. He wanted to check in a mirror, but from feel alone he would swear that it'd stretched.

The cupboard was dark and there were spiders, but he resolved not to beg to get let out. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction, but as the hours went on his stomach started to growl and his bladder to ache. He tried to hold it and ignore his hunger, but by the time he heard Vernon return from work he was hopping about in what little space he had, legs tight together.

He heard the murmur of voices from the kitchen as his aunt and uncle spoke, then approaching footsteps, and he started call out when the door opened anyway. He got a glimpse of his uncle—furious, ready to repeat everything Petunia had said earlier only with more flying spit—and didn't give the man chance to speak before he bolted out of the cupboard and past him.

"Get back here!" Vernon roared, but Harry was already halfway up the stairs, running for the bathroom and sighing with relief when he was finally able to use the toilet.

He didn't realise he forgot to lock the door behind him until it crashed open and he spun around to face his furious uncle. Unfortunately, he was still going at the time and a stream of urine sprayed over the wall and onto Vernon's trousers then all over his shoes as the two stood there, staring at one another in stunned silence. A part of Harry knew that he should do something, but his bladder was too relieved at being emptied to let him stop now and his feet felt stuck to the floor. Vernon seemed equally frozen in place so it wasn't until the stream of urine stopped that either of them reacted.

Vernon gave a wordless roar of fury and advanced, while Harry backed up until he hit the toilet and found himself sitting. His uncle's face had gone purple and his fists were rising, but there was no space to get around him so Harry could only squeeze his eyes shut and cringe away, tensing against the incoming blow—

The taps exploded. Water gushed into the sink and bath tub, and the showerhead burst off its pipe with enough force to crack the porcelain rim of the bathtub then rebound and crash against Vernon's head before falling to the floor and rolling to the door. Vernon staggered, blinked slowly, and then crumpled face-first to the floor where he lay unmoving, blood seeping out from beneath his hair to mix with the water slowly easing up from the taps and the headless shower pipe

"MUM!"

Harry started. Dudley, who'd been peering around the door to see Harry get punished, now stood flush in the doorway, one fat finger pointed at Harry, his face white with terror, and his voice a whole octave higher than normal.

"MUM! Harry killed Dad! He killed him!"

Harry stared at Vernon's prone figure. _Killed_ him? He hadn't killed him, had he? Undeniably the thing with the taps had to be accidental magic, but surely Vernon wasn't _dead_. He was just knocked out. He had to be.

He scrambled to his feet at the sound of Petunia hurrying up the stairs, fumbling to do up his still open trousers, and tried not to look guilty as his aunt came rushing in. She paused at the doorway just long enough to gasp at the mess of the bathroom, then she shrieked Vernon's name and dropped to her knees beside him, first attempting to roll him over and then giving up to press her head to his back, presumably to try and hear his heart. She didn't listen for long.

"He's dead! He's dead, you killed him, you monster, he's _dead!_ "

Harry was in shock. He stared at Vernon as Dudley and Petunia sobbed and screamed, wondering if it was really true or if he was just dreaming, at least until Petunia's sense came to her and she got to her feet to run out for the phone. Harry stared after her, aware in some way that Petunia using the phone was _bad_ , but didn't fully realise why until Dudley said in a watery voice, "Y-y-you're going t-to j-jail."

The very thought almost made him vomit, but he didn't doubt the truth of it. He'd killed Vernon and killers went to jail. He didn't really know what Muggle prisons were like, but he knew that Azkaban had Dementors, which were monstrous things, and then there was the Black Prison, where Lupin was held, but Harry could at least be sure he wouldn't be incarcerated there as he wasn't a part-human creature. They might lock him in Azkaban though, if the Ministry found out about this; Vernon was killed with magic after all. And the Ministry found out about everything.

What was he to do? He didn't want to go to Azkaban. He couldn't survive there. He'd never been around a Dementor, but Snape said they made you think about all the bad things in your life all the time and forget everything happy. That seemed bad enough when the only bad things he had to think about were not having any parents and having to live with his aunt and uncle. Now he would have to think about the werewolf attack and Snape dying, too, and he would forget about Anita and Lego Hogwarts and Gareth.

So how to avoid jail? He could already hear Petunia's shrill voice demanding police and paramedics, so the Muggle authorities would be here soon. He didn't know how long it took the Ministry to learn about magic used against Muggles, but he didn't think it would be long. He could never stop them from finding out, and he didn't think anyone would believe him if he tried to claim he was innocent, which really only left the option of not being arrested.

He had to run away.

He almost left immediately, with nothing more than the clothes on his back, but a part of his brain was functioning logically enough to make him run first for his bedroom. He grabbed the small suitcase that he used for his summer visits to Spinner's End and stuffed in a couple of pairs of underwear, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jumper. He squirmed under the bed to take up the loose floorboard and pull out his photo album—hidden with his magical toys so that if Dudley came snooping he wouldn't find a book of moving pictures—and also took Morgana, his favourite of the _Famous Figurines_.

He took Gareth's drawing of Snape from the wall—Gareth had magicked up a nail himself on Christmas day when Harry mentioned that the Dursleys would never let him, and he'd faced down Vernon and Petunia to make sure they didn't take it down even after he left—but it wouldn't fit in the small suitcase. He grabbed Bedtime Bear and stuffed it in then stared at the picture again, aware of every passing second. He really didn't want to leave it behind. He turned it over, but the clasps on the back were too fiddly for him in his growing panic and he made a wordless noise of frustration then picked it up and smashed it down. The glass front broke and he turned it over and yanked out the picture, trying not to crease it much as he stuffed it in the suitcase. He gave Lego Hogwarts a sorrowful glance, but there was no taking that and he had Lego Snape in his pocket still. It was enough.

He zipped the suitcase up and dragged it out behind him. Dudley still stood in the bathroom doorway, looking very lost and alone, and Harry turned away to hurry downstairs, the suitcase thumping down behind him. Petunia was still in the kitchen on the phone and Harry left the suitcase by the front door to dart quickly to the cupboard under the stairs, where his coat was. He grabbed it and pulled it on, but Petunia heard him and opened the kitchen door, staring out at him with the phone still pressed to her ear. He didn't give her chance to stop him, speeding back to his suitcase and jerking the front door open. She didn't try to stop him, but as he fled the house he heard her yell into the phone, "He's running away! Get some police here this instant!"

Harry ran.

He prided himself on being the fastest runner in their class—maybe even the whole school. In their sports day the year before, he won the 100-metre sprint and continually beat people during P.E. classes. Even with the suitcase dragging along behind him, made easier by the little wheels on the bottom, he had no problem running all the way from Privet Drive, through the streets, until he came to the main A-road that led east into Little Whinging proper and west out of town.

He turned west, slowing to a walk and trying to catch his breath. He kept his head down as he went and when he saw the occasional police car he hurried off the path and into the bushes, terrified of being seen even though it was already full dark. He'd heard sirens when he fled Privet Drive and knew that the police must now be looking for him.

He wondered if they'd gone through his bedroom—police did that to criminals, didn't they?—and couldn't remember if he'd put back the loose floorboard properly. There was nothing to do about it now, but he really hoped he had. It was a small thing compared to murder, but he didn't want to get in trouble for having Muggle police find his magical toys or the mirror that he'd left behind, the one he had never actually used to contact Gareth. He didn't want it on him now, just in case Gareth could use it somehow to find him.

He wasn't walking long before the sweat he'd worked up from running cooled off. It hadn't snowed yet this winter, but the night sky was clear and bitterly cold even with only a slight breeze. He wasn't sure how long he'd walked when his legs finally got too tired to take him much further, but he'd reached an abandoned hospital that he knew was near the edge of Little Whinging and rumoured to be haunted by insane ghosts. The local teenagers liked to dare each other to go inside, but Harry didn't think there would be any about on a cold night like this. Harry himself wasn't afraid of any ghosts; ghosts were perfectly amiable for the most part and any that weren't were found by the Ministry and exorcised.

Tired and cold, he went around the hospital until he found a gap in the fence to crawl through. The area around the main building was overgrown with grass, weeds, and a tall yellow plant. He pushed his way through, following a path of semi-flattened plants to the front door, which had a broken chain hanging from the handles. He pushed it open and slowly crept inside.

It was even darker here than outside where the street lamps and car headlights brought light, but from what little he could see he gathered he was in the hospital lobby. He could just make out the outline of a reception desk and some chairs. It wasn't that much warmer inside the hospital than out, especially not close to the door, but despite his lack of fear of ghosts, Harry found himself to afraid go very far into the dark hospital. Ghosts were fine, but there was no telling what else might be lurking in the shadows.

He edged over to the reception desk and sat down on top of his suitcase, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm. Without the momentum of his escape, he was now forced to consider what running away actually meant. He had nowhere to go, no one to help him, and no money or food, something he became especially aware of as his stomach rumbled. He'd been pulled out of school before lunch and not let out of the cupboard to eat all day so he'd had nothing since breakfast. He sat shivering and miserably listening to his stomach grumble until, just as he started to fall into an exhausted sleep, he heard a noise from outside.

In an instant, he was wide awake, scrambling to his feet and creeping back to the doors. They had been glass, originally, but were now broken frames with wood boards nailed across them. He peered through a gap in the boards and tried to see what was out there. For a long minute he saw nothing and was ready to convince himself that he'd imagined the noise or that it was just the cars on the road beyond the fence, but then he saw something move in the darkness and a light swept over the grounds.

Someone was outside the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

Please be aware that this chapter includes forced drug use and attempted child molestation.

 **Chapter 3**

Harry stared. He barely dared to breathe or blink, and this was perhaps why it took him several minutes to realise that the figure outside the hospital was little bigger than he was. It couldn't possibly be a policeman or some other adult who'd seen him sneak in and come to get him. But what was another child doing out here? There weren't a lot of houses nearby, so whoever it was must have walked almost as far as he had. He had good reason to; why would they?

He decided to find out. Maybe they would have some food or money that he could convince them to share, even if it was just a stale biscuit left in a pocket too long. If they were running away from home as well then perhaps they could go together. And they had a torch, something he hadn't brought with him.

He made his decision quickly. The other child must have decided the hospital was too scary because they'd turned and were heading towards the fence again. He pushed open the door and hurried out, shuddering at the onslaught of cold that seemed much worse now even though the hospital hadn't been a great deal warmer. The other child heard and he saw them pause to turn and look then they ran.

"Wait!"

They didn't. Harry hurried after them, his legs aching in protest. He saw the child slip through the hole in fence just a little way before him and he followed, calling out to them again. They headed away from town, but as they ran under a street lamp—one of the last before the path ended and the road was kerbed only by a grass verge—Harry got a proper look at the child and he gasped.

"Anita?"

She stopped so suddenly she almost tripped over her own feet, turning to look at him. "Who are you?" she called back nervously, shining the light in his face. "Harry?"

"Yeah." He finished moving through the hole and straightened up, approaching her. She backed up a few steps until he was close enough for the streetlamp to properly light him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"What are _you_ doing here? And why are you carrying that plant and that box?"

She'd pulled up several of the yellow plants from the overgrown hospital grounds and held them clutched in one hand with a small Tupperware box. At his question, she hid it behind her back. "Nothing. What are you doing here? I asked you first."

"I ran away," he told her, but decided it would be best not to mention why. It was the first thing she asked, though, and he told her the half-lie: "My aunt and uncle were really mad about the fight I had at school today and I think my uncle was going to hit me really badly as punishment. He's really big," he added. "He'd probably kill me."

She shuddered sympathetically.

"Are you running away too?"

She shrugged, which Harry found a bit annoying. He thought they were friends. Didn't friends tell each other stuff?

But then she slowly brought her hand around, dropping it down by her side, not displaying the box and plant but not hiding them either. "Are you going to live in the hospital now then?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe just for tonight, but after that I probably can't stay but I don't know where to go."

"Didn't you bring anything with you? You won't get very far if you don't have anything," she pointed out sensibly.

"I brought my suitcase. I left it in the hospital though."

"Do you want me to come with you to get it?" she asked, surprising him, then even more so when she hesitantly added, "I'll tell you a secret."

He nodded and they returned to the hospital. Anita hesitated at the doors though.

"Did you see any ghosts?"

"No. Ghosts can't hurt you anyway they just go right through you."

"How do you know?"

"I met some. At Hogwarts."

"They're really harmless?"

He nodded and pushed the door open, leading the way inside. She followed cautiously, shining her torch around the dark lobby as Harry went over to where his suitcase still lay.

"What's the secret?" he asked, more than eager to get something from her now. It was well past her turn to tell him something.

"Do you promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" Had she done something bad? It couldn't be anything as bad as what Harry had done, so he didn't think he'd hate her for it.

She sat down on the floor and Harry joined her. "Remember when I told you that those wizards came to see me last summer? They didn't just come to tell me I was a witch. They also came because I was possessed by a demon. All the magic that happened last year that you said was accidental magic, that was really the demon doing it."

"What's possessed mean?"

"It means the demon was inside my head and controlling me. It was the one doing the magic, not me."

Harry could only stare, mouth gaping open.

"The wizards that came got it out of me and that's when they found out I'm a witch as well and told us about it."

"Are you lying? This sounds like a story."

"I'm not lying!" She bit her lip and glanced down at her box and plant then said quietly, "I can prove it. When I was possessed I learned loads of stuff about demons, like how to hurt them and stuff and also how to summon them."

"Summon them?" Harry repeated a little squeakily. "You mean to make it come here?"

"Not in this hospital." She tapped her box. "You have to do a special ritual but it only works at a crossroads."

"Are you going to do it?"

She nodded, hesitantly at first and then more firmly. "You know how my brother was arrested? It's 'cause he used to hurt me a lot. He's out on bail and—"

"What's that mean?" Harry interrupted. He'd heard the teachers say it too, but hadn't wanted to ask them.

"It means the judge said he's allowed to stay out of prison until his trial if my parents paid lots of money, which my daddy did. He's not allowed to live with us or come anywhere near me so he's living with my uncle now, but my daddy went to see him during the holiday and my brother told him that he never hurt me and my daddy believed him even though it's not true. Now he thinks I'm a liar and he's going to tell the judge so my brother will never go to jail, so I'm going to summon a demon and make a deal with it."

"A deal? What kind of deal?"

"I'm going to ask them to make me able to do all the magic that the demon could do, only without possessing me, so I don't have to wait until secondary school to learn magic so that I can stop my daddy from telling the judge, and to pay for it I'll give the demon my soul."

"But… don't you need your soul?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted without much care. "But it's okay because they don't take it away immediately. They only take it away after ten years, which is a really long time."

That was true. They'd be seventeen by then—eighteen, for Anita, whose birthday was in October.

"Does that really work? Can they really give you magic? I thought you can only be born with magic, that's what Severus told me."

"They can give you anything," she said confidently. "A soul is like having a gazillion billion pounds. A gazillion billion _magic_ pounds. They can give you anything, even things that are impossible."

Harry thought about that. Like many children, he'd often wished for things that were impossible, but in the past five months he'd returned to one particular wish that he'd thought was impossible, or at least very, very difficult. But if a demon could do it… maybe it would be worth his soul.

"How do you summon the demon then?" he asked, curious as to what the box and plant had to do with it. Anita opened the tub and shone her torch in so he could see. Inside there was a small photograph of Anita, what looked like a bone, and a handful of dirt.

"That's from a graveyard," she said, pointing to the dirt and then to the bone. "That's from a black cat—I had to dig up our neighbour's old cat that they buried in their garden last year—and this plant is the last bit I need. This hospital is the only place that I could find it. I have to bury it all at a crossroads and then the demon will come."

"Don't you need to say any magic words?" he asked, watching her stuff the plant in the box then put the lid back on.

"No, just bury it. It's like a demon telephone."

It sounded both fascinating and a little bit terrifying. He wanted to ask if he could come along, to see it for himself and maybe even make a deal too, but the thought of actually coming face-to-face with a demon scared him.

But then, to his surprise, Anita asked, "Do you want to come with me? Not 'cause I'm scared, but so I can prove it to you," she said hurriedly. "I'm not scared."

"Me neither. I'll come."

She smiled, relief evident despite her claim of fearlessness, and he smiled back. "There's a farm road a bit further down the main road and it goes up to another farm road that makes a crossroads."

He nodded then frowned. "There's one just a little way in the other direction though. Isn't that closer?"

"Yeah, but it's a proper road so it's concrete and we can't dig a hole to put the box in. The farm roads are just mud and pebbles."

He flushed, glad she probably couldn't see it in the dark. "Oh, yeah. Okay. Do you think it'll be okay to leave my suitcase here?"

She thought about it then shrugged. "I dunno. Up to you."

He considered leaving it, but in the end decided to take it with him, just in case someone else came along while they were off meeting the demon. It might be dark and probably past their bedtime, but it was still early enough for adults to be about.

They didn't speak much as they walked. Harry wondered what the demon would look like. Would it have horns? A tail? Red skin and a pitchfork? But then, Anita had been possessed by a demon and she hadn't had any of those things.

"What was it like being possessed?"

"Scary," she answered quietly, and said nothing more.

When they reached the crossroads, Harry held the torch while Anita used her hands to dig a hole just deep enough to put the Tupperware box in. She pushed the dirt over it, straightened up, and wiped off her hands.

"Is that it?"

She nodded, looking around.

"How long does it take?"

"About this long," a new voice said, and they both whirled around to see a brown-skinned motherly looking woman who smiled kindly at them from beneath her turban. Harry glanced at Anita then back at the woman, frowning.

"You're the demon?" Anita asked.

"I am."

"You don't look like a demon," Harry said. "You look like a mum."

The woman laughed. "I'm sort of like a mum. I'm the demon who comes when children call for help. You don't want a scary-looking demon, do you?"

"Can you prove you're a demon?"

She approached and Harry tensed, resisting the urge to back up. Anita was completely unconcerned as the woman put her hands on her knees and bent slightly, putting her head more level to theirs and making it possible for them to see that she had warm brown eyes—at least until she blinked and they turned blood red save for the stark black pupil. Harry gasped, unable to keep from stepping back, and Anita stiffened.

"You really ARE a demon."

"I really am," the woman agreed, straightening up and blinking her eyes back to normal. "And I'm here to grant you a wish."

"I want to be like a demon," Anita said immediately. "I want to be able to do magic like a demon can, where I can make things do whatever I want, but I don't want to be possessed again."

The woman chuckled. "Alright, magic like a demon but without being possessed. Come here then."

She crouched to put them on head level and Anita stepped up to her, putting her hands in the woman's when she held them out. Harry watched, unsure what was about to happen but expecting it to be some kind of obvious magic, so he was thoroughly surprised when the woman leant in and kissed Anita, brief and maternal and clearly exactly what Anita was expecting.

"Done and done," the woman said, straightening up and stepping back.

Anita looked down at her hands, wiggling her fingers then focusing on the empty fields cornering the crossroads. With just a flick of her fingers, massive clots of mud came bursting up from the ground, making Harry jump as they flew into the air and then splattered back down.

"It's brilliant!" Anita said with a laugh. "Just like I wanted!"

Harry was a little jealous. It must have shown because the woman looked to him and asked, "Do you want to make a deal too?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"What would…" She paused. Harry frowned and fidgeted as she narrowed her gaze and looked at him weirdly, as if trying to see through his very skin. "You… need to do a summoning," she said slowly. "I can't make a deal with you."

Before Harry could argue, she stepped away from them both and then vanished in a blink without even a pop of Apparition. Harry and Anita looked at each other.

"It's probably because you're not a Sikh," Anita said confidently. "I think she was a Sikh demon and you need a Christian demon. Do you want to do it?"

"I'm not a Christian."

She looked surprised. "Aren't you?"

"No. I don't think so. My aunt and uncle make me go to church with them at Christmas and Easter, but I don't really believe and Severus said god is for Muggles because they don't have magic and wizards don't need it."

That made her frown. "But I have a god and I'm a witch."

He hesitated, then: "It's probably different for Sikhs," he said, which mollified her, and he pointed out, "I don't have a box of things to call the demon."

Anita flicked her hand at the spot where she buried her box and it hurtled up out of the ground and into her hands. She was still grinning, clearly pleased with herself, and opened it up.

"You can use mine. I think it's okay to use the same stuff. The dirt is from a Christian graveyard anyway 'cause there aren't any Sikh ones anywhere near here and we mostly burn them anyway. But you'll need a picture of yourself. Do you have one?"

Harry put his suitcase down flat and opened it, pulling out his photo album. Anita came over and took the torch, holding it so he could flip through the album. Most of the pictures were old ones of Harry's parents at Hogwarts, but there were some of him from his summers with Snape. He pulled out one from his birthday just gone, of him sitting with Lego Hogwarts, and looked at it wondering if he really wanted to summon a demon and sell his soul.

He didn't even really know what his soul was or whether it was all that important. Maybe it was like an appendix; Petunia had had hers removed a couple of years ago and Harry learnt that everyone had one, but it could be taken out without causing any trouble because it didn't actually do anything. Maybe a soul was the same. He was pretty sure of what he wanted to ask for and even if he did miss his soul, he thought it would probably be worth it. He could make sure what happened in August never happened to him again.

So he took a deep breath, folded the picture and put it in the box before putting the rest of the album away. This time Anita held the torch while he buried the box and looked impatiently for another demon. The one that came was a white man with a receding hairline and a black overcoat.

"Who are you?"

"Crowley," the man introduced in a Cockney accent. "King of the Crossroads. And you're Harry Potter."

Harry was a little surprised. "Even demons know who I am?"

"Oh yes. Even in the depths of hell we heard about the Boy Who Lived."

Anita was looking at Harry with confusion but she didn't ask about it. Harry changed the subject.

"Are you a wizard demon? Is that why you came instead of the Sikh lady?"

Crowley looked offended. "Wizard? I'm not a wizard, I'm a demon through and through. I'm not going to taint myself by possessing a wizard. You got me because you're the Boy Who Lived. You're special. We don't send out just any old demon for special cases. So, what you after, Little Potter?"

Harry scowled, straightening his back and shoulders. He wasn't _that_ small, even if he was the smallest Year Three boy. "I want to know every spell ever. All the charms and jinxes and curses and _everything_ that was ever invented, and I want to know all the ones even from a really, really long time ago that were forgotten or lost, and I don't ever never want to forget them _ever_. Oh, and a wand, please."

It'd be no use knowing every spell ever invented if he didn't have a wand to cast them with.

And that was the thing that had stood out strongest in his memories of the night Snape died—standing before the werewolf with a wand in his hand, but his mind utterly blank of anything useful. If the demon could do as he requested, he'd never be stuck like that again.

Crowley looked amused. "Every spell ever invented, huh?"

"Yeah. Oh! And I want to know all the wand movements and the incantations perfectly so I can cast them without having to practice lots and lots and lots. Can you do that?" He was sceptical that the demon could do it. It was a lot more than Anita's request and he wasn't even sure if it was possible for a person to know that many spells without their head exploding, but it was worth trying.

"You really know what you want, I'll give you that, Potter. And I'm offended—of course I can do it."

"Will my head explode? I don't want to do it if my head will explode."

Crowley laughed at that and Harry felt himself flushing. "Why would your head explode?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. That's a lot of spells to know. What if my brain can't handle it?"

"You underestimate the human brain, Little Potter. I can give you the knowledge you want, without your head exploding, and I'll throw in the wand for free. Do you know what happens next?"

Harry nodded, but couldn't help tensing when Crowley approached and crouched. He held himself stiff, fists clenching at his sides, and fought the urge to back away as Crowley leant in.

"Oh, one more thing, Little Potter. It won't make your head explode, but this is going to be a shock," he said, then closed the gap between them.

Still trying to figure out what that meant, Harry barely noticed the press of lips against his own, and then—

He knew _everything_. Every spell that ever passed through the lips of man, that had ever been written down, that had ever been thought up and then lost without ever leaving the mind of the person who invented it. Their name, their incantation, their wand motion; which he could cast silently, could cast without a wand, and couldn't cast at all unless he really meant it; which were used most often, which were hardly cast but known to someone somewhere, and which were ancient and forgotten—every little detail was etched into his mind.

Crowley was right; it did shock him. He was so overwhelmed by the sudden knowledge filling him, of spell after spell racing across his mind like he was reading a book faster than anyone ever had before, that it was several minutes before he became aware of the world around him again. When he did, he was sitting down, Crowley was gone, and Anita knelt by him looking concerned.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

He nodded, not sure if he really was. He hadn't realised it would be so overwhelming to have all this information in his head. But it was worth it. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was worth it because as soon as he imagined coming face to face with a werewolf again, he also thought of at least a dozen spells to incapacitate it.

"Where did the demon go?"

"He disappeared, like the other one." She shifted the torch, which was pointed at his face, down to the ground. "He said that's your wand."

Harry'd almost forgotten about it. It sat by his feet and he picked it up, turning the ten-inch white wand in his hands. He'd never seen a white wand before and it didn't feel quite the same as Snape's, but he knew there were a lot of different woods used in wands and he shouldn't be surprised a demon would give him something unique. He stood up, wiping off his backside, and without even pause to consider it he waved the wand and thought firmly, ' _Lumos!_ '

The wand lit up like a beacon.

"Wow!" Anita breathed. "You really are a wizard!"

He nodded, grinning, not even offended at the surprised tone.

"That's incredible, Harry. What are you going to do now?"

"Now?" He blinked at her, lowering the wand to hang down by his side, lighting their faces from below.

"Yeah. Are you still running away from home?"

"I'm never going back there," he said. "I can't."

"You could put a spell on your aunt and uncle now, if you wanted. You could make them not hurt you."

"It's forbidden to use magic on Muggles."

She cocked her head. "Said who?"

"The Ministry of Magic. They—" He gasped, eyes going wide. "They have ways of finding out! And they detect underage magic!"

He raised the wand and waved it over his head then moved it all the way down to his toes in a zig-zag motion as he said, " _Náiceádom._ " Then he held the wand in his left hand and ran his right hand along its length as he said clearly, " _Nepadet lamagie_."

"Nothing happened," Anita told him helpfully.

"It worked," Harry replied confidently. He knew how to do it perfectly and the thought that his hands wouldn't do what was in his head simply didn't occur to him. "Now no one can find me even if they try to use spells and the Ministry won't know that I'm using magic."

"Not even that man you told me about? Your godfather's friend. Gareth?"

"Even him," Harry said quietly. As kind and accepting as Gareth had always been of him, he really doubted Gareth would approve of him being a murderer. Harry was better off alone from now on.

She considered him, then shrugged. "I'm going home. I have to make sure my daddy doesn't make the judge let my brother go. If you're not going home, I guess we gotta say goodbye."

"I guess."

"Do you want to walk together back to the hospital?"

He nodded. He didn't want to stay in Little Whinging any longer than he had to, but he would walk with Anita back to the hospital where there were streetlamps to guide her the rest of the way. He made a much brighter light with the Lumos spell than her torch gave and there were far fewer cars about now, so he didn't worry much about the drivers seeing him. They did still de-light and hide whenever a police car came by. Anita didn't have the same reason to hide as Harry did, but a pair of children wandering along a main road so late would get them picked up and taken home.

"So," Anita said when they reached the hospital, "goodbye, Harry. I hope you find somewhere to have a new home."

"Thanks. I hope you sort out the thing with your dad and the judge and everything."

She smiled, switched on her torch, and turned away. Harry watched her walk away until she was out of his sight and then he sighed and thought about himself. He was half-tempted to go back to Privet Drive. It was probably swarming with police officers by now, and maybe even Aurors if the Ministry had found out about Vernon, but he could turn himself invisible, sneak inside, and then, while no one was in his room, he could shrink Lego Hogwarts and take it away with him. He wouldn't even need to do all that. He could just memory charm everyone into thinking that what happened to Vernon had nothing to do with magic.

But he didn't want to go back to living at Privet Drive. His aunt and uncle hated him just for existing and the feeling was mutual. He lived there because Dumbledore said he had to and Snape had agreed that it was for the best, but Snape was dead now and Harry could defend himself. He didn't need whatever protective charms had been put on Privet Drive. He knew every protective enchantment ever invented; he could keep himself safe from Voldemort.

But where was he to go? There was Spinner's End, but Gareth and Dumbledore knew about it and they would look for him there. He needed to find himself somewhere to live. Maybe he could transfigure himself or use a glamour charm to look like an adult and buy a house for himself. He'd have to transfigure something into money first, or maybe steal from a bank, both of which were illegal of course but didn't make him hesitate for long. Hard times called for drastic measures.

All of that was thinking ahead though. For now, he needed to worry about tonight. He should probably leave Little Whinging as soon as possible—who knew how far the police and Aurors would search for him—but after all the walking of the evening he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball so he crept back into the hospital, transfigured some chairs into a bed and blankets, took Bedtime Bear out of his suitcase, and was asleep within moments.

* * *

When Sirius Flooed into Dumbledore's office, the headmaster sat in his chair staring unhappily at a spinning top that was whizzing around a map of Britain unrolled on his desk. Minerva McGonagall and Gareth Martin were in the office as well. McGonagall stared at the spinning top with pursed lips and the same expression she'd get when Sirius and James would muck about in her lessons, while Gareth leant against a bookcase with arms folded over his chest.

Dumbledore glanced up when Sirius entered, then sighed and picked up the spinning top in one hand, the other tapping his wand to the map so it rolled up and flew over to one of the shelves. He set the top back down and it continued to spin, though now remained in one place.

"Any luck?" Dumbledore asked. Sirius shook his head.

"We tried every location spell possible with the hairs from his pillow, but nothing. Wherever he is, none of our spells can find him."

"Nor mine," Dumbledore said with a mild gesture at the shelf with the map, then at the spinning top. "At least I know he is alive, wherever he is."

"Can't the school register give you a location?"

"Not until the year before he's due to start," McGonagall answered. "His name may be on it, but his address will only register itself when the year group before him starts. What happened anyway? Albus said the uncle was injured by magic somehow?"

Sirius nodded. "Looks like a generic magical outburst caused some bathroom pipes to bursts. Something hit Dursley around the head and he died before the Muggle healers ever got there."

"Did they give any explanation of what happened? What might have caused the outburst?"

"The Muggle boy did, he saw the whole thing, but I don't know how much faith I put in his words."

"Being Muggle does not make him a liar, Sirius," Dumbledore chided gently. "Nor does being a child."

"No, but children are prone to exaggeration and inaccuracy, and I don't think the Dursley kid is a big fan of the truth. He claims Harry urinated on Dursley and when Dursley tried to punish him, Harry made the pipes burst and attack. When I asked how Harry did that, the boy claimed he must have 'messed with them earlier'."

"He could hardly know about—" Dumbledore began, only to be interrupted by McGonagall.

"Why on earth would Harry urinate on his uncle?"

Sirius shrugged. Gareth finally spoke.

"Have you met him, Minerva? Anyone would want to piss on the man after exchanging five words with him."

McGonagall shot him a disapproving look. "Young as Harry is, I'm sure he is above such vulgar behaviour."

Gareth conceded with a nod. "It was probably an accident, and if not I'm sure there's some explanation, but we're not likely to get it until we can find Harry."

"There was no indication of any other wizards in the house," Sirius said. "Both Petunia and the boy say that Harry left the house of his own accord when she called the police. If someone was there, they could have been memory charmed, but there's things missing from Harry's bedroom so without further evidence it looks like Harry left on his own by choice."

"Probably afraid that he'd be punished for hurting his uncle with magic," Dumbledore said. "You know him best, Gareth. Where do you think he would go?"

"London," Gareth answered without hesitation.

"What makes you so sure?" Sirius asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion from his tone. He didn't like Gareth. Supposedly he'd been in Slytherin two years below Sirius, but Sirius couldn't remember him at all and he'd known most of the Slytherins for the sheer joy of tormenting them, and knowing who Regulus was hanging about with. And while on paper Gareth seemed unremarkable enough—pureblood orphan raised by grandparents, second cousin to the now deceased Severus Snape, above average student with a certificate of extended study for Charms and Potions from Beauxbatons—there was just something about him that put Sirius on edge. He was sure the man was hiding something and at some point Sirius would find out what.

If Gareth noticed the hostility, he didn't show it. "It's London. Big and easy to get lost in. Easy to hide in. Chances are he'll travel by train—easier to stowaway on than a bus—and even if he wants to go somewhere other than London, then he'll need to go through it. But where's he going to go? He might turn up at Severus' house in Spinner's End—and if he does, it's enchanted to let us know," he added with a nod to Dumbledore, "but I doubt he will. He's hiding. Best place to do that is the capital."

McGonagall frowned. "That's all well and good, but if he's alone then why can't our spells find him? He could hardly charm himself to be undetectable. Even if he left his aunt's house by choice, he must have met someone since."

She didn't need to point out that it was probably no one good. Anyone benevolent towards the Boy Who Lived would have contacted the Ministry if they found him wandering the streets; only someone who wished him harm would hide him. Dumbledore's sad look at the still spinning top made it clear he realised the same thing.

"Has the media been alerted?" Gareth asked.

"The Muggles have been," Sirius answered. "We gave them a sketch of Harry—without the lightning bolt scar. We don't want anyone finding out the Boy Who Lived is missing or every Death Eater not in Azkaban would rush to find him before we did. I doubt any of them are reading Muggle newspapers, but if they are then hopefully they'll just pass him off as another Muggle with the same name, and with any luck they won't expect him to have the werewolf scars. But we have to find him soon before anyone does realise."

"We will," Dumbledore said with more surety than Sirius had. "Speak to everyone you know and keep your eyes and ears open. Wherever he is, he cannot stay hidden for long."

* * *

In the morning, Harry went to London.

It seemed like the thing to do. London was the capital city. It was where Oliver Twist ran to in that film that played on TV every Christmas, which Vernon liked to watch apparently for the sole reason to complain about it and tell Harry how much better he had it. As such, Harry had come to decide that London was the place for orphans to run away to.

He had a brief period of doubt about his magic after waking up. He could still remember all the spells, and he had the wand still, but he wondered if he could really cast them properly. What if he only _thought_ he'd cast the Unseen Spell, which prevented tracking spells from finding him, and the Untraceable Charm, which stopped his magic being detectable? It's not like he had a way to test it, so for all he knew the Ministry could still find him.

But after transfiguring his bedding back into chairs, using a spell to empty the toilet because the flush didn't work, and shrinking his suitcase small enough to fit in his pocket, he felt a bit better about it. Still, just to be cautious, he re-cast the Unseen Spell and added a Perception Filter Jinx before heading out. It was one of several spells that could physically hide him. He considered full invisibility, but that would risk him being walked into, as would a Disillusionment Charm, whereas the Perception Filter Jinx was just enough to make people glance past him without paying full attention, but still notice him enough to go around instead of walking into him.

This, he felt, was enough to not be found by wizards or noticed by the police as he walked to the train station. He considered Apparating, but in truth he was too scared. The information was all there in his mind and he saw no reason why it _shouldn't_ work, but Snape had told him horror stories about splinching and people stuck in two places, unable to move, and he couldn't bring himself to try Apparating in case that happened.

He stole some snacks from the small shop at the train station then snuck onto the train. It was busy with the morning commute and he struggled to find somewhere unobtrusive to hide, spending the hour long journey shifting from place to place as more and more people got on. When the train reached London Waterloo, he was swept up in the crowd as everyone disembarked, eventually breaking free as people dispersed to go their various directions. He stood at the end of the platform, looking around the station and wondering where to go.

Eventually he headed out onto the street and just walked, wandering aimlessly until he found a market where he stole an orange, an apple, and a bottle of Coke, and found a bench to sit on and eat. He felt a little bad about stealing, but he had no money and there was no specific spell to transfigure or conjure money. There was one that could transfigure things into the likeness of whatever he thought about, but he was worried the stall owners would realise that it was fake and call for police to arrest him for counterfeiting.

He had no idea what he was meant to do with himself. Where was he meant to go now, to live? How was he meant to get food and water? He wasn't sure it'd be a good idea to steal all the time. He could beg, he supposed. If he couldn't find somewhere to live and had to make a life on the street, begging was probably his only option. Unless he could learn to pick pockets, but that was stealing too. Still, if that's what it took… and maybe there was even some Fagin-like person who could teach him to pick pockets and give him somewhere to sleep. It'd be nice to have a group of friends like Oliver Twist did.

Was it really safe to stay in London though? Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and St Mungo's Hospital were all somewhere in London, which meant there were a great deal of wizards living in and visiting the city. He knew where Diagon Alley was and could avoid that, but he didn't know where the Ministry or St Mungo's were, so what if some wizard saw and recognised him? He could put a Concealing Charm over his lightning bolt scar, the most distinctive part of his appearance to wizards, but what if Dumbledore or Gareth visited and happened to bump into him? Besides, he was a murderer now. Police on TV always found pictures of murderers to show to people; Aurors would probably do the same so everyone would know to be on the lookout for him. Maybe it would be safer for him to leave London for somewhere with fewer wizards. But where?

It was only when he started walking again that he noticed a newspaper stand and stopped short, staring with his mouth hanging open. Every paper from the _Sun_ to the _Times_ had a sketch of his face on it and the headline MISSING BOY.

He snatched up a copy of the _Daily Express_ , not even giving a thought to stealing this time, and hurried to find a quiet spot to read it in. He struggled with it because he'd left his glasses behind, but after squinting and leaning close he got the gist of it—Vernon was dead and the police were looking for Harry. It didn't say specifically that they were looking to arrest him, the paper blamed the events in the bathroom on pressure in the pipes, and there was a quote from a police spokesperson saying they thought Harry was just frightened by what happened and that he should come back as soon as possible if he could, but Harry knew it had to be a trick, or just the Muggle police getting things wrong. The Aurors would know better and Harry suspected that if he turned himself into the police the Aurors would soon find out and haul him off to Azkaban.

So nothing had changed, except that now if he wanted to take off his Perception Filter Jinx he'd have to disguise himself so no one would realise he was the boy in all the papers. He still had to find somewhere to live and hide, something to do with his life. Even if he found somewhere to live, what was he meant to do all day? It's not like he could go to school anymore. He didn't want to be stupid, though, so maybe he could find a library and teach himself things from books. He should have asked Crowley to make him know everything in the whole world, not just spells, then he'd be sorted.

He left the newspaper and went to find a bathroom. He removed his Perception Filter Jinx, conjured a step, and used the grimy mirror over the sink to watch as he changed his appearance. He used a Concealing Charm to hide all his scars and a transfiguration to dye his hair the same shade of red as his mother's had been. That, he thought, was enough. His own reflection looked like a stranger; surely no one else would ever recognise him.

He reapplied the Perception Filter Jinx—he might not be recognisable, but people would still wonder about a seven year old walking about London on his own, especially as he still wore his school uniform—and returned to wandering the city, this time with a bit more purpose as he looked about for somewhere he could hide away. He took the underground a few times, hopped on the back of a couple of busses, and walked some more until he found himself in rundown area rife with homeless people.

Here, he felt it was alright to remove the Perception Filter Jinx and searched for a spot to settle down. It was dark and the temperature had dropped by then, enough so that he struggled to keep warm even in his coat, so he was glad to find a space where he could sit down. He made sure it was out of the way of the other homeless people so no one would see him take out his wand and conjure a blanket, put a warming charm on it and the newspaper he spread out to sit on, or use a Duplication Spell on the half inch of coke he had left to refill the bottle. It didn't quite taste the same, but it was enough and he only wished he had some food left over to duplicate as well.

With another spell to make the floor beneath him and the wall behind him softer, he settled down surprisingly warm and comfortable. The advantage of being a wizard; he dreaded to think what it'd be like if he was a Muggle. But then, if he was a Muggle, he never would have made the pipes explode so he wouldn't have had to run away.

He shivered thinking about it, remembering the expression on Vernon's face. He'd often looked at Harry with hatred, as if he'd like nothing more than to smack Harry so hard his head would come off, but he'd never actually hurt Harry. Not really, anyway. He'd taken a slipper to Harry's backside a few times and Petunia gave him a cuff around the head at least once a week, but they'd never really beat him or anything. He always thought they wanted to, but Snape had scared them into behaving.

But yesterday, watching Vernon advance on him, he'd been honestly scared that the man would kill him, or at least beat him to within an inch of his life. For all that they liked to paint him as a delinquent and blame him when anything went wrong in the house, he'd never actually done anything very bad and especially nothing like peeing on his uncle. It was undoubtedly enough to break the tentative control Vernon had on his anger.

He was just drifting off to sleep when a noise jerked him wide awake. He blinked and yawned, looking around and then tensing slightly when he saw a boy of about fifteen sidling up to him. The boy paused when he saw Harry was awake and staring, but then he grinned and came the last few feet to crouch by him.

"Alright?" he greeted cheerfully.

"… yes?" Harry answered hesitantly, unsure what the boy wanted.

"Bit chilly out tonight, ain't it?"

Harry nodded.

"Nice blanket you got there," the boy remarked, then flicked Harry's feet where they stuck out. "Good trainers. Looks like you've got a nice coat, too. Ain't been on the street long, 'ave you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "I ran away last night."

"Wassat, from your old man? Your dad," he added when Harry looked at him blankly.

"No, my dad's dead. It was my uncle."

"Ah. 'it you, did he?"

"He was gonna."

"Yeah, yeah," the boy said, nodding. "So's you's all alone here? Ain't got no place to stay? No one comin'a'look for you?"

"Why you asking me all that?"

"Oh, nothin' to worry about, nothin' to worry about. It's just I gots a place, if you need it. 'snot very big, mind, and we might 'ave to snuggle up a bit to keep warm, but you'd have a roof over your head and it'd be warmer'n out 'ere on the street."

Harry stared at him in surprise. "You'll let me come stay with you? Why? You don't even know who I am."

The boy snapped his fingers. "Cor blimey, ain't that right!" He thrust his hand forward. "I'm Roger. What's your name?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, remembered the news, and hesitated before saying, "Severus."

"Severus? That's a funny name. Nothin' wrong with it," Roger added quickly, seeing the offence on Harry's face. "Nothin' wrong with a funny name. Anyways, we know each other now, so what d'you say to comin' with me?"

"You really don't mind?"

"Nah, 'course I don't. Can't go lettin' a little fella like you sleepin' on the streets on his own, can I? You just come along with me now, I'll get you settled in nice and snug like."

Hardly daring to believe his luck, Harry got up and followed after the boy. He hadn't really thought he'd be as lucky as Oliver Twist in finding someone to give him a roof over his head, and he didn't mind if he ended up having to pick pockets. Magic would certainly give him an advantage in that respect. Just as long as he didn't end up getting on the wrong side of some Bill Sikes-like figure then he'd be fine.

Roger led him to a rundown little flat over a pawnshop. It had only three rooms, including the small bathroom, and the only furniture was a lumpy mattress in the bedroom and a tattered sofa in the main room, but as Roger said at least it was a roof overhead. And an easily accessible toilet, which Harry suddenly found himself grateful for as he felt the effects of the coke he'd drunk.

"D'you want me to sleep on the sofa?" he asked Roger after using the bathroom, shrugging off his coat and laying it neatly over the arm of said sofa. In the kitchenette, Roger pulled a bag of Haribo from the cupboard.

"Nah, you don't wanna do that, Severus. That thing's older'n me and the springs stick you in the butt. Sleep in the bed with me. It's more'n big enough for the both of us. Here, have these."

He tossed the Haribo at Harry, who caught them neatly. "Really?"

"I'm givin' 'em to you, ain't I? Go on, go settle down."

Harry did so. It took a while to find a position that was comfortable on the lumpy mattress, but once he had he tore open the Haribo and dug in. Roger came through not long after with a scratched and dirty frameless mirror, which he laid on the mattress and knelt in front of it. Harry watched curiously as he took two little packets of white powder from his pocket, tipped some out of one on the mirror, and then used a credit card to push it into a single neat line.

"What's that?"

"Junk."

"Junk?"

"Yeah." He took a five pound note from his pocket, rolling it into a cylinder. "It's a special kinda sugar wot makes you happy and helps you sleep better. You can try some if you like."

Harry looked at it sceptically. He'd never heard of such a thing and Petunia claimed sugar made children hyperactive and _not_ likely to sleep well. (At least, _most_ children, and especially Harry. As always, Dudley was the exception in her opinion.)

"It won't 'urt you," Roger promised. "'ave a bit."

Harry stuck his finger in the powder and then licked it off. It tasted like sugar.

"It don't really work proper when you take it like that, though," Roger said knowingly. "You gotta snort it to get it proper."

"Snort it?"

"Yeah, like this." Roger bent over the mirror, stuck the rolled up fiver into one nostril while he pressed down the other, and snorted hard and loud as he moved the fiver along the line of powder. He blinked and sniffed a few times after, then grinned at Harry, who was gaping. "See? It's great. And it's like a medicine, right, only a nice one 'cause it's sugar as well, and if you snort it then it works quicker 'cause your nose is closer to your brain than your mouth is, see?"

Harry wasn't sure that really made sense, but what did he know?

"You wanna have a go? You should, Severus," Roger added without giving Harry time to answer. "It's 'ard to sleep on your first night on the streets, even though you ain't really on the streets proper. You're still away from 'ome, ain't you? So you'll need the 'elp. Trust me."

He was still a bit sceptical, but it sounded reasonable enough. If he didn't like it or it didn't work, he just wouldn't take it again. So he nodded, watched Roger pour out another line from the second bag, and then took the fiver, letting Roger help him hold it right as he bent over the mirror.

"Now just give it a great big sniff, like you've got a cold and you're tryin' keep all the snot from runnin' out."

Harry did so, a little less noisily than Roger had. Roger jerked him back by the shoulders, preventing his sudden exhale from blowing away the rest of the junk, and pinched Harry's nose, forcing his sudden sneeze out through his mouth. He felt the ache of it in his throat and there was still a tickle in his nose when Roger let go, but he didn't say anything because he was very quickly being overwhelmed by an inexplicably pleasant feeling. All his worries from the day vanished and it no longer mattered that he was a hunted criminal living on the streets.

"Alright, Sevvy?"

Harry hummed an agreement, wondering why Roger was calling him Sevvy but not really caring, and let Roger lay him down on the mattress, not even noticing the lumpiness now. He was only half aware of Roger making up another line of junk to snort himself and then stripping down to his underwear before turning off the light and climbing under the blankets next to Harry.

"You're not wearing no py-ja-mas," Harry pointed out, blinking slowly at the ceiling above him.

"I ain't got none and I don't wanna get me clothes all wrinkled. 'sides, it's nicer to go without. Lets your skin breathe, makes you feel free. You should try it."

"M'okay," Harry agreed, not moving. Roger edged closer, tugging at Harry's jumper.

"Lemme help you."

Harry did nothing, letting Roger pull the jumper up over his head and then start to undo his school shirt. He still felt… _nice_ … like the whole world was perfect, but when Roger brushed his fingers over his bare chest he felt a twinge of something else, something unpleasant. He shifted away.

"It's alright, Sevvy," Roger murmured. "I'm just keepin' you warm. It gets cold in 'ere and I don't want you freezin' in the night. Lemme keep you warm."

There were already goosebumps on Harry's skin so he stayed still as Roger moved closer again and slid an arm over him, ignoring the twinge of discomfort to focus on the pleasantness from the junk. He wasn't even sure why he felt that discomfort, so it probably wasn't important, probably just a side-effect from the junk.

But when Roger started to unbutton his trousers, he did push the hand away and say, "I don't wanna."

"But it feels better."

"No." He blinked slowly, feeling incredibly sleepy, and let his head fall against Roger's shoulder. "I wanna keep m'trousers on."

"Okay, Sevvy. We'll keep them on."

Harry mumbled some thanks, eyes closing. It was much warmer being nestled close to someone else, nicer in a way than the warmth of clothes or a warming charm, so he didn't complain about Roger's fingers drifting over his skin, the light sensations tickling sometimes but not enough to keep him from drifting off.

 _CRASH!_

It took him a moment to react to the noise, by which point Roger's warmth had vanished. There was a thud, a choked scream, and when Harry finally pushed himself up to look around, he saw Roger slumped against the wall on the opposite side of the room and a dark figure looming over him.

"Who're you?" he asked. When they crouched he could see that it was a woman and, despite the dark room, her eyes seemed to glow slightly.

"I'm here to take you somewhere safe," she said gently, slipping her arms under him. Her skin was cool, but he was too sleepy to complain. She picked him up easily and he let his head loll against her shoulder, eyes drifting shut. She was even nicer to sleep against than Roger, even if she was a bit chilly, and he was fast asleep before they even left the flat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It took Harry a while to wake up. Several times he woke, glanced around and wondered where he was, then promptly fell asleep again. When he finally woke properly, it was to find himself in a luxurious bedroom, snuggled comfortably in a massive bed. He was tempted to sleep more, just to enjoy the warmth and comfort, but he wasn't really tired anymore and his brain was alert enough to make him wonder where he was and how he got there. He remembered going to Roger's flat, snorting the junk, and letting Roger start to undress him—which now made him uncomfortable to think about, though he wasn't really sure why, only that he felt he probably shouldn't have let the boy do it—but he couldn't remember how he'd got from there to wherever he was now.

He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched, then pushed back the duvet and had a second look around the room. There was a wardrobe and vanity off to his right, a pair of double doors set in the wall opposite the bed, and a window on his left with floor length curtains blocking them completely and an armchair in front of them—in which sat a women. She was black and dressed in a calf-length skirt and a blouse, watching Harry unblinking.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

She smiled kindly, which didn't make him relax any. He was beginning to realise that trusting anyone who showed him a smidgen of kindness was perhaps not the best thing to do. He knew not everyone in the world was nice, and that some people would pretend to be a friend until they wanted to betray you, so it was stupid of him to take people at face value. It was stupid of him to have trusted Roger as easily as he did.

"My name's Lorna Valentine," the woman introduced, "and you're at my home. I'm not going to harm you."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't," she admitted, "and I'm glad you don't just take me at my word. It's very smart of you. But I do promise I won't harm you and as a sign of good faith…"

She reached down the side of the chair and picked up Harry's coat, holding it out to him. "The wand is still in your pocket."

He shuffled to the edge of the bed and reached forward to snatch it from her, checking the pocket and drawing out his wand.

"Are you a witch?"

"No, and I never have been, but my husband was. Gabriel?"

She didn't speak any louder, but at her call the doors opened and a tall man entered, dressed smartly in a navy suit. He had the dark olive skin of someone native to the Mediterranean, and his eyes were a bright, electric blue and crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Lorna and Harry.

"Good afternoon. I'm glad to see you awake."

"This is my husband, Gabriel," Lorna introduced as Gabriel closed the doors behind him.

"What d'you mean he _was_ a wizard?" Harry asked. "You can't stop being a wizard."

"You can if you stop being human," Gabriel said softly and then bared his teeth to show his elongated and incredibly sharp canines. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and leapt to his feet on the bed, jerking his wand up to point shakily at him.

"You're a vampire!"

Gabriel let his lips fall back into place, nodding. "We both are."

Harry darted his gaze to Lorna, who flashed her own fangs at him, then back to Gabriel, clenching his hand on his wand. "I won't let you eat me!"

Gabriel laughed, but broke it off when Lorna chided him, and cleared his throat to say with a faint smile, "Don't you think that if we wanted to feed from you, we would have done it while you were sleeping?"

That certainly made sense, but he still didn't lower his wand. "What do you want with me then?"

Lorna stood up and moved to Gabriel's side, slipping her arm through his. "We would like to give you a home."

That was so unexpected that he dropped his wand hand and gaped at them.

"We have a daughter," Lorna went on to explain, "and she would like a companion her own age."

"You mean you want to _adopt_ me? But what do you mean you have a daughter? I thought vampires couldn't have babies."

"We can't. She's adopted, too," Gabriel told him. "As for you, we understand you may not want to see us as parents right away, or perhaps at all, and so you can think of us only as guardians."

"But you can't just take children off the streets!" Harry cried. "If you want to adopt someone why don't you do it properly?"

"We're vampires. How do you think the Ministry would react to us trying to adopt a child?"

"They'd think you're gonna eat them."

Lorna scowled. Gabriel patted her hand. "We don't eat children," he said to Harry. "We don't 'eat' anyone, we simply drink their blood, but we do not drink the blood of children. Ever."

"Why not?"

"Children are innocent; they do not deserve to be harmed, by anyone, and a child is more likely to die if we drink from them. The Ministry disapprove enough if we kill adults; they would exterminate our entire species if we killed children. Besides," he added in a drawl, "if we killed children, they wouldn't grow up into adults and make more humans, and then where would we be?"

Harry wasn't sure if he was actually meant to answer that. He raised his wand again. "I don't think I want vampires for parents. Or guardians. Even if you don't eat—I mean, drink from—them."

"That's your choice," Lorna said acceptingly. "We're not going to force you. But would you at least let us try to convince you?"

"Convince me how? You're not using that vampire magic on me!"

Snape told him once about a power vampires had, if they'd been a witch or wizard before being turned, that let them influence the minds of humans, to make them happy and willing to be fed on—or to drive them utterly mad.

"The vampire seduction? Certainly not," Lorna said firmly. "We would want you to come with us willingly, not because we made you."

"Then how are you going to convince me?"

"By talking," Gabriel told him simply. "Do you mind if we sit?"

Harry considered it then nodded. Lorna returned to her seat and Gabriel perched on the arm. Harry sat again as well, shuffling into the centre of the bed to put some distance between them, and kept his wand in his hand on his lap.

"So how you going to convince me?"

"First, we're going to tell you that we know who you are… Harry Potter."

"How?" he gasped before realising that it would be more sensible to deny it. He felt himself flushing and Lorna and Gabriel smiled.

"You might have dyed your hair, but the shape of your face still matches the pictures in the newspaper, even if the scars are hidden under a charm, and your eyes are very distinctive."

"Oh," Harry said in a small voice. "Are you going to send me back, then?"

"That depends. The newspaper said you ran away. Is that true?"

"Yes. Why?"

"In my experience," Gabriel said softly, "when a child runs away it's because they've got good reason to. Would you be safe if we sent you back to your aunt?"

Harry barely even thought about it before shaking his head. Even if the Aurors didn't arrest him for killing his uncle, he didn't think his aunt would welcome him back into Privet Drive. She would hate him for killing Vernon and she would definitely take it out on him. He didn't think it would ever be safe for him to return there.

"So you have nowhere else to go?" Lorna asked and when he shook his head again she continued, "Then would you really rather live on the streets than with us? We can give you a good home. We are well off; you will never want for anything. We have a large home in Nottinghamshire where we live with our nest most of the time, complete with extensive grounds, a swimming pool, and outdoor play area. You'll be well educated and, when you're old enough, sent to the magical school of your choice."

That wouldn't be Hogwarts, he realised; Dumbledore and Gareth would know about what he did to Vernon and would turn him over to the Aurors. He would have to go somewhere else. If he went anywhere at all. He knew every spell in existence; did he even need to go to magical school?

And the offer sounded nice, really nice, but he knew he couldn't just take anything they said at face value. They were still vampires, after all, which made two of her words particularly concerning.

"Your nest?"

"I am the lord of a large nest," Gabriel said. "Our house is the headquarters of our nest and a number of vampires live with us. They would not harm you, however. They are under my command and they would know you are under my protection. As long as you lived with us, you would never come to harm." He said it with such surety that Harry didn't doubt him, even knowing what he was.

"What about werewolves?" he couldn't help asking. "Can they get to your house?"

Gabriel's lip curled. "I do not let vicious beasts roam my property."

"Is that how you got the scars?" Lorna asked. "The ones in the picture?"

Harry nodded, wondering if he should take off the Concealing Charm. He decided not to just yet.

"But I wasn't bit," he assured them. "It just scratched me. I'm not a werewolf."

"We know. We'd smell it if you were."

"And we would not be making this offer," Gabriel added.

"Why did you pick me?" Harry asked. "Why not a different homeless kid? I saw others on the street."

"You caught my eye when I was out looking," Lorna told him. "You're about the same age as our daughter and I could smell that you're a wizard, which we had to have, obviously. We could not take in a Muggle child."

"You _smelled_ that I'm a wizard?"

They both smiled. "Yes. Magical people have a subtle but distinctive scent to them that Muggles do not."

"Oh. I didn't know."

"Why would you?"

That was a good point. "So you picked me just because I'm a wizard?"

"No, that merely caught my attention. That and your hair—it's a beautiful colour. I followed you and watched you settle on the streets. That's when you really interested me—there aren't many young boys casting spells, especially not with a wand made of bone."

Harry blinked, glanced down at his wand, then up again. " _Bone?_ "

"Surely you know what your own wand is made from?" Gabriel said.

"No. I mean… I thought it was wood. I got it from… not a shop," he finished lamely, unwilling to mention his demon deal. It probably wasn't something he should advertise.

"I can assure you it's not wood."

"But I thought wands had to be made of wood. Isn't it not a wand if it's not made of wood?"

"That depends how pedantic—picky," he explained at Harry's confused expression, "you want to be. Historically, yes, wands have always been made of wood, but they're not the only thing humans, or other beings, have used to focus their magic. Bones have been used in some cultures, and probably still are, but in my experience they were used primarily by special persons within a society. Holy men and the like, especially those linked to death gods. But yours is carved like a wand and you wield it the same way, so there's no real harm in calling it a wand."

"Oh. Do you know what it's a bone from?" Harry asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. Gabriel held out his hand.

"May I? I promise I shan't use it against you," he said when Harry tightened his fingers around the wand. "You have my word."

Harry held it out hesitantly, but Gabriel just took it in one hand, lifted it to his nose, and sniffed. He rubbed his thumb along its length, licked his thumb, and then handed it back. Harry snatched it away.

"Human."

"Hu- it's _human_? Really?"

Gabriel nodded. "Without a doubt."

Harry looked at it again, a little repulsed. A wand made of human bone? He shouldn't be surprised a demon would give him such a thing, but still… he dreaded to think what the core was. Somehow, he doubted it was unicorn hair or dragon heartstring. Should he continue using it? It felt almost wrong to do so, but it did work so well for him and he didn't have any other wand to use. If he gave it up just because of what it was made of then he wouldn't be able to have a wand again until he was eleven and ready to start at… whatever magical school he went to.

He swallowed and clenched his hands around it. He wasn't willing to go without. Just because it was creepy was no reason to give up a perfectly good wand. He would just make sure no one found out in future; he doubted other wizards would respond well to learning he had a wand made of bone.

Remembering how they'd got on the topic of his wand, he returned to their original conversation. "So why didn't you come speak to me on the street?" he asked Lorna. "Why'd you kidnap me?"

Lorna scowled angrily and Gabriel squeezed her shoulder and answered for her. "She came to fetch me. I was looking elsewhere for possible candidates. When we returned to where you'd been, you were gone. Your scent trail was still fresh, however, and we followed it to you."

"I'm sorry," Lorna said, surprising Harry with how intensely she looked at him, a wretched look on her face. "I am sorry I left, sorry that we didn't come back sooner. We could have stopped—"

"It's okay," he interrupted, uncomfortable. "That boy didn't do anything to me."

There was a brief moment of silence, then Gabriel shifted from the arm of the chair to the edge of the bed, making Harry glance at him warily.

"Harry, whilst we arrived soon enough to stop things progressing further, do you understand that what that boy was doing—the way he was touching you—it was wrong?"

Harry shrugged, looking away. "It wasn't really bad. It was just… like cuddling."

"Did it make you uncomfortable?"

"Kinda? I guess. I don't really know why."

"You don't need to," Gabriel said softly, prompting Harry to glance up so their eyes met. "If you ever feel uncomfortable when someone touches you, even if it seems like a perfectly normal and harmless touch, you're allowed to tell them to stop and _make_ them stop if they refuse. You don't have to justify anything. You don't have to explain why it makes you uncomfortable."

"Okay," Harry said quietly, and meant it. There was something about the way Gabriel spoke that made Harry believe him. Maybe he was using the vampire seduction, even though he'd said he wouldn't, but whatever it was Harry trusted that what he said was true, that it was alright for him to feel uncomfortable about what Roger had done even if he didn't understand why it made him uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he felt a certain inclination to explain it away and said, "It was probably just the special sugar."

Gabriel and Lorna exchanged a startled look then asked in unison, "Special sugar?"

"Yeah, it was a special sugar that made me happy and sleepy. He called it junk and he said I had to sniff it up because it didn't work so well if you ate it. It made me feel nice but I don't think I'd want to take it again 'cause I didn't really like sniffing it."

Lorna scowled angrily again and Gabriel had the same look on his face that Snape had got the time Harry called to tell him about Marge hobbling him. "He gave you junk?" he asked softly. Harry nodded.

"Should he not have? Is it bad for kids?"

"It's bad for everyone, but especially so for children."

"Am I gonna get sick? Am I gonna die?" Harry asked, panicking.

"No, you won't die," Lorna was quick to reassure him, moving to join Gabriel on the edge of the bad. Harry briefly wondered if he should mind that he was in arms reach of two vampires, but they didn't scare him. And he had his wand if they _did_ try anything. "But you could have, Harry. Heroin—the proper name for junk—it could easily have killed you when you first took it. It was very dangerous for that boy to give it to you and it's very lucky that you got through it alright."

"Well I'm never going to see him again, so it's okay. I think… I think I'd like to come live with you."

They might be vampires, but they seemed nice enough. It might just be the vampire seduction, but if it was then there was nothing he could do about it. If not, then they seemed like good people. They didn't talk down to him or treat him as stupid just because he was a child, they were concerned about him, cared whether he was safe and happy even though they didn't even know him, and they hadn't once made him feel scared while they were talking. It would get him off the street and he wasn't likely to ever receive a chance like this again. There was the possibility that they were lying and planned to either hand him over to the Ministry or kill him, but half-breed creatures didn't get on with the Ministry and what would be the point in making up such an elaborate pretence if they were just going to kill him later?

They looked a little surprised at his words, but then they both smiled broadly, so openly and honestly pleased that Harry couldn't help smiling back.

"We're glad to hear it," Lorna said, "but before you decide for sure, you should meet our daughter, and her governess."

Harry's smile vanished. He'd forgotten about the daughter. "What if she doesn't like me?"

"I'm sure she will," Lorna said soothingly. "You're very likeable, and Tori is very good at making friends."

"I would like to ask that you remove the charms altering your appearance," Gabriel said. "There is no need to disguise yourself here."

Harry did so reluctantly, partly out of a wild concern that the Ministry would mysteriously find him without the charms disguising him, and partly because he didn't know how their daughter would react to his scars. The kids at his school might have gotten used to them, but they still made strangers in the street stare.

"You're remarkably talented," Gabriel noted as Harry removed the charms on his face and hair. "Have you been receiving private tutelage?"

"Yes," Harry said immediately, grateful to be provided such a good lie, and added, "Because I'm the Boy Who Lived."

It was something he'd always pushed Snape on. He had defeated Voldemort once, but Voldemort wasn't dead and he would probably come after Harry again. Harry needed to know how to defend himself, more than with just the handful of spells that Snape taught him in the summers. And now he could, so there was no harm in saying tutoring was the reason why.

"You must be very powerful in your own right. Even the best teacher can only do so much with an average wizard of your age. It takes practice to cast spells properly with a wand."

Harry shrugged. "I needed to know how to protect myself."

With the charms removed, he climbed off the bed and followed the two vampires out the bedroom and down two staircases to a sitting room. It was respectably sized and nicely decorated, with the curtains pulled over the windows as they were in the bedroom—keeping out the sunlight, Harry realised. In the middle of the room was a three-person sofa, on which sat a woman wearing an 1870s style dress. Harry gasped at the sight of her, recognising her and the girl standing up from the floor.

"You!" Tori cried, pointing at Harry. "I remember you!"

"I remember you!" Harry said back.

The adults all looked surprised, Gabriel and Lorna at their daughter's words, the woman on the sofa merely at seeing Harry.

"You two have met?" Lorna enquired.

"He was at the museum Jennifer took me to in the summer. We walked back to the Leaky Cauldron together. But he didn't have lots of scars back then. What happened to your face?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, unable to resist scratching at the scars. "It was a werewolf."

Tori gasped, stepping back and clutching at Jennifer's skirts. "A _werewolf_?"

"He is not infected," Gabriel told her. "We would not take in a werewolf child."

Tori nodded, letting go of Jennifer and stepping forward again. "So… you're my new brother?"

Harry glanced at Gabriel and Lorna, the latter of whom corrected Tori, "He is coming to live with us, if you get along, but you can think of him as a friend until he is comfortable considering us family."

Tori had a chest of toys and they got to know each other as they played. Tori noticed his lightning bolt scar and asked if he was _the_ Harry Potter or if it was just from the werewolf attack; when he said he was, she asked if he knew how he'd survived and looked disappointed when he said no. He asked how long she'd lived with the Valentines and what it was like to live with vampires; she told him the Valentines found her the day she was born, on the street crying in the arms of her dead mother, and she considered living with vampires to be perfectly normal.

"I just have lots of aunts and uncles living with us."

"You mean the other vampires in the nest? Are they scary?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No, that's silly. They're my aunties and uncles. They're my family. They would never hurt me." She looked at him curiously as they dropped discs in a Connect Four grid. "Why do you want to come live with us? Don't you have someone to look after you?"

"No. Not anymore."

"Why not? Who were you living with when your parents died? Your godfather?"

"No, my aunt and uncle, but I can't live there anymore, and my godfather died."

"How?"

"A werewolf. The same one that attacked me, it killed him."

"Werewolves are horrible," she said sympathetically. "They're nasty monsters, not like vampires at all. I wouldn't never want to live with a werewolf."

"Me neither. But I think it'll be okay living with vampires," he said with a smile. She smiled back and put a disc in the grid.

"I win!"

* * *

Lorna was right; Tori was easy to befriend. Jennifer seemed nice too, when they all went out for dinner. Gabriel and Lorna didn't eat, but the servers in the restaurant didn't seem to notice. They went to a park afterwards, where Gabriel scared off a nasty looking bunch of older teens just by looking at them, leaving the park empty but for themselves. It was strange playing in a park after dark, but it was still a park and Tori was a good playmate. She wasn't as quick on her feet as Harry, but she was a good swinger and the night seemed to make her more vibrant than she'd been during daylight hours.

When they left, the Valentines asked Harry once more if he'd like to join them and he agreed, even more sure now than he had been earlier. He was looking forward to living with another child his age _that he got along with_. Dudley had been horrible to live with and while Harry usually wished he didn't have to live with him at all, he sometimes wondered what it'd be like if he and Dudley got along, if they'd grown up like brothers instead of enemies. Now he would have the chance to find out what that was like, albeit with a sisterly figure instead.

They returned to the Valentines' town house and spent the rest of the night there. Lorna and Gabriel couldn't travel in daylight, but they decided to spend another day in London. Harry needed clothes and belongings to replace everything he'd left behind at the Dursleys—the meagre possessions in his shrunken down suitcase were far from sufficient—so the next day Jennifer took him shopping. They went in the afternoon, having slept most of the morning. This was normal, Jennifer told him; in a house of nocturnal creatures he would soon get used to spending his mornings fast asleep and using only the afternoons for anything that had to be done in daylight.

After a much needed bath—he hadn't washed since the day before leaving Privet Drive—and once more under the disguise of a Concealing Charm and transfigured hair, he went to a handful of shops where he bought an entirely new wardrobe of clothes that were of far better quality than anything he'd had before. The Dursleys had spent as little money on him as possible—they once tried to make him live in Dudley's hand-me-downs, but Dudley's clothes were so large that the moment Snape saw him in them he'd had several quiet words with the Dursleys and they'd never tried it again. Most of his good clothes were gifts from Snape, but even they weren't up to the standards of what Jennifer bought for him, using the Valentines' money. They even went into Diagon Alley—Harry with a great deal of nerves, certain that someone would notice him—to get fitted for some robes, and they went to a professional tailors where he was measured for a suit.

"What do I even need a suit for?" Harry asked as they left. "Suits are for grown ups."

"Gabriel and Lorna hold parties occasionally where you will need to be presentable. Robes are acceptable too, but you should always have a suit. Adults aren't the only ones that need to look smart sometimes."

Harry's wrinkled nose was the only answer he had to that. Any kind of party where he would need to look smart was probably not the kind of party he would enjoy.

They got shoes, trainers, boots, and wellies as well, and stopped somewhere to get a toothbrush, which wasn't something he'd thought to grab when he left Privet Drive, then returned to the town house. He spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Tori and getting to know her and his new guardians a little more. He couldn't think of them as family, even if they were nicer than his actual relatives, but he thought he might do in time.

When nightfall came Harry was a little surprised that they left in a private limo, driven by a wizard introduced to Harry as Mr Richards.

"We can't Apparate," Lorna pointed out with a smile when she noticed Harry's surprise, "and I've personally never trusted the Floo. I don't care how magic it is; I can't step into fire."

"It can be somewhat temperamental with vampires," Gabriel added. "It's generally safer to avoid it where possible."

It was a two and a half hour journey to South Arlett, a village just outside of Nottingham, and ended when they pulled up at a large country mansion, the gravel driveway and front entrance well illuminated for their return. Tori clambered out as soon as the limo stopped, running up the stairs and through the door that was opened by an elderly man in a black suit and white gloves.

"Is that a butler?" Harry asked in awe, following Gabriel and Lorna out of the car, staring up at the house in amazement. He'd never seen one so big. "A real butler?"

"A real butler," Gabriel confirmed, amused. "His name is Edward."

"Wow…"

Beyond the front door was a large foyer, crystal chandelier overhead, doors and staircase leading further into the house. Tori had already vanished and Jennifer went after her, but a large number of vampires were there to greet Gabriel and Lorna on their return and meet Harry, who tried not to make it obvious that he preferred to hang back, more than a little intimidated by so many vampires looking at him curiously. Gabriel and Lorna noticed his discomfort and Lorna took him by the shoulders and excused them, saying she would show him around the house and help him settle in, while Gabriel went with several of the vampires who wished to discuss nest matters with him.

The tour and settling in took most of the night. The house was truly massive and Lorna didn't even show him all of it, just the main rooms he needed to know—the main dining and living rooms, the kitchen, the swimming pool, exits to the garden, the playroom where they found Tori, the classroom where he would be home-schooled by Jennifer, and his bedroom. Tori's bedroom was opposite his, with Lorna and Gabriel's just around the corner and Jennifer a floor above. All the rooms had thick curtains or blinds that kept out every bit of sunlight during the day, and when Harry mentioned there were spells that could keep the harmful part of sunlight out Lorna told him they did have those spells up as a secondary precaution, but they didn't trust them enough to rely on them as the first defence.

Other rooms she mentioned but didn't show him were Gabriel's study and the throne room, both of which acted as a barrier to the east wing, which was sectioned off exclusively to the vampires of the nest; Lorna's own workshop, where she made unique jewellery that provided a not insubstantial amount of their personal income (the nest's finances were handled separately); and the stables at the edge of the garden where they kept horses and Thestrals.

"Which you'll learn to ride, of course," she told him, much to his surprise. "The horses, not the Thestrals, unless you really want to. Do you know what they are?"

"No," he said a little nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted to learn how to ride a horse. They were so big and intimidating.

"A special breed of winged horses. They're inv-" She broke off, glancing at him, then said softly, "You'll see them later. That reminds me, you'll need to pick a sport or activity, and an instrument."

"An instrument?" he repeated blankly.

"Everyone should know how to play at least one instrument. We have a grand piano, but you can pick anything you'd like to learn. Tori plays the violin. As for the sport or activity—children need regular exercise and good social interaction. You can get all the exercise you could ever need running around the house and gardens, and from using the pool, but you need more than just the company of a vampire nest, Tori, and Jennifer. There's a playpark in the village that you can visit, but you'll need to pick some kind of activity to attend at least once a week where you can meet other children. A sports club or scouts group or something."

She finally left him to get settled in his room. It was much bigger than he'd expected—twice as large as the master bedroom at Privet Drive—and already fully furnished with a brand new bed, wardrobe and drawers, and storage for the toys and things he wouldn't keep in the playroom. The walls were painted a plain azure, but the ceiling was midnight blue with silver stars painted exactly as they were in the night sky. Lorna said he could have it redecorated however he pleased, but he didn't want to change it.

His new clothes had already been unpacked and he had another look through them as he dug out his pyjamas for the night. He left his single set of old clothes in his suitcase, feeling like they didn't belong with his new stuff, and he also left his picture of Snape and the figure of Morgana, but took out Bedtime Bear and his photo album and put them on the bed.

There was a bathroom just two doors down where he washed up and brushed his teeth before returning to his room and changing. He was exhausted, it being only an hour until sunrise, and the bed was wonderfully comfortable. He fished Lego Snape from the pocket of his trousers then took it and his wand into bed with him, slipping the wand under his pillow so it would be close at hand and putting Lego Snape on the bedside table, next to his night light. Burrowed in the big bed inside a large room in a massive house, he felt overwhelmed by it all and having Bedtime Bear and Lego Snape were some comfort, a little bit of old familiarity.

The photo album helped with that too and he sat looking through his pictures, wondering what his parents and Snape would think of his situation right now. They would probably all hate him for killing Vernon, even if they recognised that it was an accident, and none of them would like him living with vampires. Snape disliked and distrusted all half-breed creatures, and while Harry didn't know what his parents thought of them—although they couldn't have completely hated them when they were friends with Lupin, even if he had turned out to be the worst of his sort—he didn't think they'd really want vampires looking after their son. It made him doubt his own decision despite how good the Valentines had been to him so far.

He jumped when a knock came at his door. Worried he'd be told off for still being up, he shoved the photo album under his pillow with the wand and lay down, closing his eyes then opening them just enough to peer between his lashes.

"Harry?" Lorna's voice said. "May we come in? We wanted to say sleep well before you went to bed."

He hesitated. We? Presumably she meant Gabriel was with her.

"Okay."

The door opened and he was proved right as both vampires entered, coming over to the edge of the bed. Lorna sat, smiling gently at him.

"Did you find everything alright?"

He nodded.

"Is the room alright?" Gabriel asked. "We can easily redecorate, or move you to another one if you prefer."

"No, it's okay. I like it. Thank you."

"Alright. Just let us know if there's anything you want changing. Sleep well, Harry."

"G'night," he returned.

"Good morning," Gabriel corrected gently.

"We'll see you when you wake up," Lorna said. "You can leave your room whenever you please—you needn't wait for anyone to come get you—and go anywhere in the house that I haven't told you is off limits. Jennifer will start your lessons in the afternoon. Alright? Sleep well, then," she said when he nodded. "Sweet dreams."

She made a jerky motion with her head, as if she'd meant to lean down then changed her mind, and squeezed his hand before rising and accompanying Gabriel out of the room. They both looked back with one last smile as they closed the door behind them. He lay in the soft glow of his night light, Bedtime Bear clutched to his chest, and stared up at the painted ceiling. As tired as he was, everything was so different that he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep.

He looked around sharply when he heard the door start to open, reaching under his pillow for his wand, heart suddenly thudding in his chest. He'd been stupid again, it was all a trap. Gabriel or Lorna or one of the other vampires—maybe all of them!—were coming to eat him. He was probably just the latest in a long line of children lured to this house to become food for vampires. That's why this room was already prepared. The clothes would be returned for a refund, all just another part of the trick, and when they were done with him they'd bury him deep in the extensive gardens behind the house. Harry Potter would vanish from the earth and no one would ever know what happened to him—

A head peered around the door and a voice whispered, "Harry?"

His hand loosened. "Tori? What are you doing?"

"I wanted to give you something." She slid into the room and crept over. She was dressed for bed as well, but she clutched several sheets of crayon-covered paper in her hands and she laid them down beside him. "It's a present for you, to say welcome to your new home. I made it myself, I hope you like it."

She didn't give him chance to respond, just turned and crept out again, shutting the door quietly with practised ease. Harry sat up and shifted the pictures closer to the night light, looking them over with a smile. There were three pieces and each one was decorated with a map of one of the floors of the house, with helpful labels on each room. In some, the labels were accompanied by a small sketch—an apple in the kitchen, a blue blob in the swimming pool, and smiley faces in each of the squares representing their bedrooms.

He set them on the bedside table where they wouldn't get damaged, and nestled down in the bed again, smiling. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to settle into a house full of vampires. He didn't interact with them all that much, except for Gabriel, Lorna, and Edward the butler. The vampires mostly kept to their part of the house, but Harry had no idea what went on there. Tori had various theories—feeding, boring adult meetings, raucous adult parties (with no clear idea exactly what went on at adult parties, except that they probably didn't include games of Pin the Tail on the Donkey)—but admitted that all her attempts to sneak in and find out had failed miserably because there were alarm spells that went off if any human entered the space without permission. They asked Jennifer, but she just told them that, as humans, it was none of their business what the vampires did.

The vampires were around the rest of the house occasionally. They had the same free reign around it as Harry did, except for his and Tori's bedrooms, their playroom, and the classroom. Sometimes they would be in the swimming pool or out in the garden, and some of them didn't mind kicking a football around or swimming with Harry and Tori. There was always _someone_ in the pool if Harry or Tori were there, acting as lifeguard. Harry loved having a private swimming pool. He knew how to swim because Snape had made the Dursley take him when they sent Dudley to lessons, but Dudley hated swimming and had stopped as soon as he knew the basics, so the only time Harry got to swim was when he could convince Snape to take him to a pool in the summer.

Now he was able to whenever he wanted and he picked swimming as the weekly activity that he wanted to do. Lorna took him every Thursday evening to a pool in Nottingham where he spent an hour and a half improving his strokes and making friends with the other kids in the club. Tori wasn't one of them—she was part of a gymnastics club that met every Saturday afternoon—but they both took violin lessons.

Harry never had much interest in learning to play music before and he only picked the violin because it was what Tori did and he hoped their lessons would be together. He was disappointed to find they were taught at separate times, one after the other, and that the violin wasn't an easy instrument to learn. He was half tempted to say he wanted to give it up and pick something else, but there was no other instrument that appealed to him. Besides, quitting reminded him too much of Dudley, who couldn't stick to anything for more than a couple of weeks before giving it up as too hard. And he had to admit, when played well, the violin did sound nice.

Home-schooling was novel and he wasn't sure if he preferred it to regular school or not. On the one hand, geography lessons often involved field trips, science class included experiments with batteries and circuits, and Gabriel and Lorna gave them stories from Muggle and magical history that were far more interesting than learning dry facts from books. (Books which they both proclaimed to be inaccurate.) On the other hand, when it came to spelling, maths, and other less interesting lessons, it was almost impossible to slack off when Jennifer only had two pupils to watch over instead of twenty.

They had a few other lessons which Harry hadn't expected. The Valentines and Jennifer spoke French fluently as a second language (it was actually Jennifer's first, as she'd been born and raised in France), and Harry had to pay attention to learn it and catch up so he could understand when they slipped into it instead of English. Jennifer in particular tended to slip into French whenever she scolded them, so he soon learnt how to behave in French. They also learnt Greek, Italian, classical and vulgar Latin, and had magical theory lessons, a new subject for Harry _and_ Tori. Gabriel and Lorna argued about whether to start them on it—Lorna felt they had more than enough to be learning already, without adding in something that they would be taught once they reached Hogwarts age; Gabriel thought they would be fine and wanted them to get ahead.

In particular, he thought that with a good magical theory teacher Harry could bypass magical school entirely. He was already more than adept in spell casting and so with home-schooling in magical theory, potions, herbology, and any other subjects he was interested in, he'd be able to take his magical exams earlier than Hogwarts students and be able to focus on Muggle subjects as well. Harry, already resigned to not being able to attend Hogwarts, had to admit it would be a bit pointless to attend a magical school when he already knew every spell the teachers could show him, and a great deal they couldn't. Home-schooling could focus on the things he needed to learn instead of wasting time with a curriculum unsuited to him.

In the end, Gabriel and Lorna let Harry and Tori decide if they wanted magical theory lessons. Harry agreed immediately, far more willing to learn that than boring sums. Tori didn't look quite so eager for more studies, but she was already jealous of Harry's casting abilities and she didn't want him to be so far advanced in the theory as well, so she agreed to the lessons, too.

It was the only subject for which they had an outside tutor: twice a week Mr Kelly, an Australian master of magical theory, came in to give them lessons. Unfortunately his friendly attitude and best efforts only did so much to make magical theory interesting; it was not a subject that leant itself to fun and exciting lessons, and both children regretted taking the class at least once a week. Harry wasn't willing to admit it, though, given that it was mostly his decision that resulted in the lessons, and as long as he refused to give up so did Tori.

Harry's picture went from the front page of the papers to the deeper pages and eventually disappeared entirely and they stopped talking about him on the news. Watching the TV one night a week after moving in, Harry was surprised to learn that there had been a second murder in Little Whinging the same night that he'd runaway, and even more surprised to learn the victim's name was Harish Darzi—Anita's father. The news had no information on the suspect and Harry couldn't help wondering if it had happened while they were making their demon deals. Had Anita come home to find her father dead? Or did it happen after? Was Anita involved, somehow? Was killing her father what she meant when she said she'd stop him talking to a judge about her brother?

He discarded that thought. Anita was just a kid, like him. She couldn't have killed anyone. Sure, he had, but that had been an accident.

Despite the reduced news coverage about him, he continued to wear a Concealing Charm whenever he went out; his scars were too distinctive and memorable for him to risk going anywhere without hiding them. At his swimming club, he also put a charm over the scars on his back; they weren't public knowledge, but he was a little more self-conscious about them and didn't want all the kids and watching parents staring at him. He used the Valentines surname at the swimming club and anywhere else it was needed, just in case someone made the connection between his name and the news even without the scars.

At the house, though, it was always Harry Potter and he didn't wear the Concealing Charms. As much as he sometimes hated to even look at his own reflection, the scars were something he couldn't get rid of and he couldn't pretend they didn't exist. He did, however, cast the Unseen Spell every single morning, just to be sure that no one could ever find him with magic. The Muggle police might give up looking for him, but he didn't know if or when the Aurors would; after all, to the Muggles he was just another missing boy, but to the wizards he was the Boy Who Lived.

Although he kept his name, he did gradually come to think of the Valentines as family. He wasn't quite ready to call Lorna and Gabriel 'mum' or 'dad', but in just a few months he came to think of Tori as his sister. They were closer and better friends than he and Dudley ever were—maybe more than they ever could have been—and even when they argued it wasn't badly, usually just over who got to pick what to watch on TV or who went first on the slide at the playground. They rarely argued over toys—a simple request to the Valentines would get them a second copy of anything that they might fight over.

Before he knew it, months had gone by. In June they went on holiday to one of the Valentines three summer homes, this one in the south of France where Harry's French made a vast improvement as it was all they spoke for the six weeks they were there. While there, the Valentines asked what he wanted to do for his birthday and if there was anything in particular he wanted for a gift. He asked for a broomstick without even thinking about it; every year he asked Snape for a broomstick and every year he was told no because there was nowhere safe in Cokeworth where he could fly. He spent longer thinking about what he wanted to do for the day, trying to decide where he'd like to go for an outing, and didn't even consider a party until Tori mentioned it on their first day back home.

"A party? For me?"

She nodded, feeding a carrot to a bay mare named Jupiter. It was three o'clock in the morning and they were hiding out in the stables, trying to put off their bedtime. The horses weren't as scary as Harry had initially thought, but he still wasn't a big fan of them and he didn't ride very well. The Thestrals were no more or less scary, despite their appearance and what made them visible to him. Tori couldn't see them and Harry wondered what it looked like to her when they all went riding and Gabriel and Lorna rode invisible horses. They had to ride the Thestrals—most mammals didn't like vampires much and although the horses had been specially trained to stay calm in their presence, no one had quite been able to train them into letting the vampires ride them. For the same reason, a few of the nest vampires were paid to help Edward the butler tend to the house rather than having a house elf.

"It's _your_ birthday. You could invite the people from your swimming club."

"But…" He'd never had a party before. He'd never had enough friends—or any friends. Sometimes he'd envied Dudley, but his outings with Snape and Gareth on his birthdays were fun enough that he didn't mind too much. But he wouldn't ever get to do that again, not even with just Gareth.

"But what?"

"What? Oh, um… can I do that?" he wondered. "Have a party here when everyone's a vampire?"

"Sure. Dad'll tell all the vampires they have to stay in the east wing, or they have to leave for a day, except for Edward."

"What about Gabriel and Lorna? The party would have to be in the afternoon, wouldn't it? Everyone would think we're weird if we kept all the curtains shut the whole time and they don't like using just the spells.

Tori shook her head. "They cover up the windows with tin foil and put spells on them to make them show a picture of what's outside. Or you can have a party somewhere else, like at the village hall or at the pool or somewhere else in Nottingham or even in London."

That seemed a bit much to Harry, but a party seemed like a nice idea so he mentioned it to Lorna and Gabriel, and a month later he had his first ever birthday party.

As his days now went from about noon until three o'clock in the morning, he opened his gifts shortly after midnight. He waited impatiently with Tori and Jennifer in the playroom beforehand and as soon as midnight struck and it was officially his birthday, he went hurtling down to the family room. Gabriel and Lorna were already there waiting for him, and they gave him a hug and kiss each and wished him a happy birthday.

That was something new to him, as well—the Dursleys had never touched him at all, if they could avoid it, and while Snape had patted on him the shoulder or guided his hand when practising spells or given him the occasional hug, he'd never been even half as affectionate as Gabriel and Lorna were. They had been very cautious with him at first, always making sure he knew what was coming before they hugged him, which he'd been grateful for because even with the warning he'd worried they were going to bite him or something, still a little distrustful of their claim to never harm children. But after a while he got used to it and even started initiating hugs of his own, albeit hesitantly and unsure if he was doing it right, and now it was almost natural.

There was a large pile of presents to one side of the room and Harry dug into them with enthusiasm. He was delighted to find not just a broomstick amidst them, but a top of the line Comet 260. As well as that, there were toys both magical and Muggle, books, and some ornaments for his bedroom. It all felt a bit much, to be honest. He still had the belief that fewer presents was better when it came to birthdays and Christmases, but he made a promise to himself to make the most of everything and not treat his things as disposable just because his guardians could afford lots of them, like Dudley did.

He immediately took the broom out. Flying was something he took to naturally, handling the broomstick confidently and easily. He figured it was something he got from his parents; James had been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Snape told Harry that Lily, though she hadn't played Quidditch, had loved flying and that self-levitation had been one of her earliest uses of childhood magic.

He was extremely reluctant to go to bed, but when he did finally head up to his bedroom all his presents had been moved up there. He took another look through them and when Gabriel came in to say goodnight, he found Harry perched on the edge of the bed, staring at a box of _Famous Figurines: Incredible Inventors Edition_.

"Everything alright?" he asked, coming to sit beside Harry.

Harry said nothing.

"Do you not like them? It's alright if you don't. You needn't pretend to like something you're not interested in."

"No, it's not that." He ran a finger over the letters at the top of the box. Unlike the flimsy cardboard boxes that most Muggle figures came in, the _Famous Figurine_ box sets were wood with glass fronts to display the four figures inside. The _Famous Figurines_ logo and the name of the box set was painted across the top, with the name of each person along the bottom. "It's just… Severus used to get me a box of these every birthday and Christmas."

"Ah," Gabriel said softly. "It reminds you of him. It's almost a year since he died, isn't it?"

Harry nodded again. "In one week and two days. I was wondering… do you think I could… could I go to visit his grave?"

He'd been thinking about it for days and hadn't meant to bring it up on his birthday of all days, but with the topic being discussed he thought he might as well ask. He had only been once before, a few days after he was released from the hospital after the attack; he'd still been healing when Snape's funeral was held.

Gabriel considered it. "If you like," he said slowly, "but you should consider that if it's known to the Aurors that you were very close to him, there may be spells around the graveyard to alert them if you turn up—or even someone there in person, watching for you on his anniversary."

That hadn't even occurred to him and his shoulders slumped. "Oh, I guess."

"I'll give it some thought," Gabriel said. "You will have a chance to honour him, I promise you that. I won't let the Ministry or anything else stop you from mourning your lost loved ones."

Harry looked up, smiling gratefully. "Thanks, Gabriel."

Gabriel gave him a one-armed hug. "Don't let it bother you today. Get some sleep; you want to be well rested for your party this afternoon."

The excitement of that left him struggling to settle down, but he slept well when he did and was full of energy when he woke. The party began at three and Harry didn't have a lot of experience with parties, but he thought it was a pretty good one. Better than Dudley's, in fact, because Harry didn't throw a tantrum when he didn't win the party games or yell about the cake not being right (it was shaped like a butterfly and Mr Richards, the limo driver who was also the house cook, delighted in having a reason to make something more than just Harry, Tori, and Jennifer's daily meals).

Almost all the children from Harry's swimming club came, as well as a few kids he'd made friends with at the village playpark, and a couple of Tori's friends from her gymnastics club. They played games, including some in the pool, ate dinner, and at the end of it the guests were sent home with goodie bags and thanks for coming. They all had something nice to say about the party, and Harry was left with a dozen new gifts to add to those he already had.

He couldn't help thinking of Snape again when it was all over and wishing he'd been there to celebrate the day with, but on the whole it was a pretty good birthday.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Ha! Justice!"

Everyone looked around as Lorna came into the family room, a broad grin on her face and the day's papers in her hands. She passed the _Nottingham Evening Post_ to Gabriel, but kept the _Evening Prophet_ for herself.

"Care to explain yourself, dear?" Gabriel asked, smiling at his wife's happiness.

"Narcissa Malfoy's trial has finally finished. A whole year those rotten lawyers have been dragging it out and they finally ended it."

"And...?"

"Guilty. Sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban. Looks like those filth couldn't pay the jury off this time. There is one less baby-killer walking the streets of Britain."

"That's good to hear."

Lorna bent and kissed him before moving to her own chair, humming a cheerful tune as she opened the paper and went on reading.

It was November of 1989, almost two years since Harry left Privet Drive, and he had well and truly settled in as part of the family. He felt more welcomed there than he ever had anywhere else. Even with Snape. As much as the man had cared for him and been so much better compared to the Dursleys, Harry had always had that awareness that Snape was not his family, was not even his official godfather, but just an old friend of his mother's who took him in for four weeks every year out of a sense of old loyalty to Lily.

But the Valentines did more. Never once did they make Harry feel unwelcome, or treat him as a burden or temporary fixture in the household, and Tori was never treated as better or more deserving than him. They were equals, just like real siblings. And while he still didn't call Lorna and Gabriel 'mum' or 'dad', it was because he only used those terms in reference to Lily and James and he did call the Valentines his parents when talking about them, but made sure to mention they were _adoptive parents_ when talking to anyone new.

He wasn't surprised by Lorna's reaction to the news of Narcissa Malfoy's imprisonment. She'd been following the trial since Narcissa was arrested a year ago for performing illegal abortions, reportedly the second time she'd been arrested for it. Harry hadn't understood Lorna's viciousness then, but she'd explained that when she was human the Malfoy patriarch of the time had killed her husband in order to take his jewellery business, leaving Lorna and her three children homeless and penniless. Her children, all younger than eight, had died of cold and hunger and when she'd been turned into a vampire several years later—not by Gabriel—she hunted down and killed Cato Malfoy, his wife, and two grown up children. The Malfoys of the present were descended from the murdered man's brother, but Lorna hated the entire family. On top of that, she was firmly against abortions and as such doubly pleased to see Narcissa Malfoy thrown in Azkaban.

It was late-evening, just after lunchtime for Harry and Tori, and a Saturday. Jennifer wasn't there; every other week she took off from sunset Saturday to noon on Monday. Harry and Tori had no particular plans for the night, but there were still a little surprised when Gabriel and Lorna stopped them from heading up to their playroom.

"As you're turning ten on your next birthdays, there's something we want to discuss with you," Gabriel said, piquing their interest. "A special gift we want to give each of you, if you want it."

"What kind of gift?" Tori asked curiously. Her birthday was in just two weeks and she was already expecting a brand new and very expensive bike.

"Blood."

Harry and Tori exchanged a startled look. Lorna huffed.

"You father does not mean we're going to turn you," she elaborated. "You know we would never do such a thing until you're adults, and only then if you want it."

Tori did, Harry knew. She wanted to be made a vampire as soon as she turned twenty-one, the youngest age Gabriel would turn them. Harry was less sure. He couldn't deny there was a certain appeal to living forever, but he was a little unsure about the blood drinking part of being a vampire, and he did quite enjoy going out in daylight.

"No," Gabriel agreed. "We won't turn you, but I believe we've mentioned before that a person can receive some vampire blood and gain a portion of their powers without being fully turned."

Tori looked excited now. "You're going to give us some?"

"A small amount, if you want it."

"I do," Tori didn't hesitate to say. "I definitely do."

Gabriel and Lorna weren't surprised. They looked to Harry.

"I don't know," he said. "Why do you want to give us that?"

"We thought you might appreciate the powers it gives you," Gabriel said, "but it is entirely your choice. We shan't force you if you don't want it."

"What kind of powers?"

"We can't say for sure," he admitted. "It varies from person to person, as does the strength of it. You might become a lot faster or stronger, or your eyesight, hearing, or other senses may improve."

"There's also a chance you might gain a sensitivity to sunlight," Lorna added, "and the possibility of a bad reaction. Some people have something similar to an allergic reaction to vampire blood. We would keep a close eye on you after giving you any blood, just in case."

"I still want it," Tori said, just in case they thought that would put her off.

"I want to think about it," Harry told them.

"That's fine," Lorna assured him. "We won't give it until your birthday if you do decide, so you have plenty of time."

He remained indecisive until after Tori's birthday, when he saw her enhanced strength and hearing. She became more sensitive to light as well, finding that it stung her eyes even when it wasn't particularly bright, but it didn't bother her and Harry had to admit that he was jealous of how easily she could now climb trees. She still wasn't half as strong as the vampires, nor was her hearing as good, but it was notably better than it had been.

So by the time Harry's tenth birthday came around he was rather eager to receive some himself. Lorna had given some to Tori, but it was Gabriel who took Harry aside to his office after he'd opened his other presents and sat him down on the leather sofa to one side.

"So do I have to bite you?"

Gabriel laughed. "No."

He withdraw a small knife from his pocket and used it to slice a thick line across the back of his arm, then swiped his thumb over it and held the digit out to Harry even as the wound sealed up and healed over. Harry envied the vampires their healing abilities.

"Go on."

A little warily, Harry leant forward and wrapped his mouth around Gabriel's thumb. The blood was bitter and unpleasant tasting, but he licked it all off then drew back.

"I don't feel different."

Gabriel chuckled, taking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his thumb and then the remaining blood on his arm. "You won't, not from a little bit like that. The effects will come gradually, as they did with Tori. Lorna and I will keep a closer eye on you for a week to see how it goes, but you must tell one of us if you start to feel off—nauseous, hot or cold, tingling in your hands or feet, anything else like that."

Harry nodded, peering around the study trying to figure out if his eyesight was improving. He couldn't see any difference, but it was mostly reading where he had trouble anyway.

"So do I get to sit in on your super secret vampire meetings now?" he asked. He wasn't sure what they involved and a part of him was sure they were probably incredibly boring anyway, but the mere fact of being forbidden to him gave them a certain allure.

"No."

"Damn."

He didn't have a big party at home that year, instead inviting a couple of friends from his swimming club to accompany him and Tori to Laser Quest and he mostly forgot about the blood as he ran around shooting people. But over the next few weeks he found his speed, hearing, and night vision improving. To his disappointment, he still needed his reading glasses, and he gained an even greater sensitivity to light than Tori, needing to wear sunglasses or apply a Shades Spell to his eyes whenever he went outside unless it was particularly overcast. It was annoying, but worth it, and he started thinking that maybe being a vampire when he was older might be a good thing.

* * *

Gareth wasn't much surprised to see a flickering light coming from Minerva McGonagall's office when he approached it at a quarter to midnight on the last day of August. Theoretically they should all be in bed early for a good night's sleep before the students arrived tomorrow evening, but they had reason to be up late this year. When the hour struck midnight and it was officially the first of September, the school register would update itself with the next year's incoming students and their addresses. This was their last hope at a location for Harry Potter. If the register didn't give them anything, they had no other way of finding him.

McGonagall answered immediately to his knock and Gareth entered to find Dumbledore in there too, the headmaster dressed in his pyjamas, slippers, and dressing gown already, contrasting starkly to McGonagall who was still fully clothed. Both of them had cups of tea and McGonagall poured one for Gareth as he took a seat. The school register sat open on her desk.

They made small talk for ten minutes until a house elf popped in to say that Sirius Black was at the school gates and Dumbledore told it to bring him up to the office. When he arrived, he slumped in a chair and gratefully accepted the proffered cup of tea. He looked like he hadn't slept or changed his clothes in a week.

"Just got off a double shift," he said wearily, rubbing a hand over his face and grimacing at the feel of several days growth on his chin. "Investigating a triple homicide."

"The one in Portsmouth?" McGonagall asked. "They mentioned it in the paper. Three young adults found in a Muggle night club, wasn't it?"

Sirius nodded. "Boiled from the inside, but there was signs of the Cruciatus as well."

"Did you catch who did it?"

Another nod. "You'll never believe it. Davey Gudgeon."

McGonagall gasped and Dumbledore sat up straighter, eyes going wide. "Are you sure?"

"Took the confession myself," Sirius told them, "and Priori Incantatem on his wand proved it. He was insane though, no doubt about that. He thought they were aliens. From space. And he killed them as a warning to other aliens planning to invade. We found him shouting at the sky and trying to curse the moon, which he thought was a spaceship."

Gareth took a gulp of his tea to hide his mouth and only when he was sure he could speak without smiling or laughing did he say, "He was always a bit... off... since that incident with the Whomping Willow."

McGonagall and Dumbledore's sombre expressions dulled his humour at the situation.

"That was extremely unfortunate," Dumbledore said. "I take full responsibility for it; I should have been far more strict about keeping students away when it was first planted."

"Kids will be kids, Albus," Gareth mentioned. "Someone would have gotten too close to it."

Further discussion was cut off by the clock on the mantelpiece chiming midnight. As one they all looked towards the book, leaning forwards in their chairs to get a better look. The list of first years who would be at the school in less than twenty-four hours vanished from the page, and a new set of names and address appeared in their place, an invisible hand scribbling across the page. When Harry's name appeared, the three men rose from their seats to crowd the desk, prompting McGonagall to scowl up at them all until they backed up a pace.

"There," Sirius said quietly. "Bedroom Four, Lynott Manor, South Arlett, Nottinghamshire. We found him."

The relief of it made Dumbledore and McGonagall look five years younger and give Sirius an extra burst of energy.

"You can go in the morning," Dumbledore began, but Sirius cut him off.

"I'm not waiting until morning, Dumbledore. He's been missing nearly three years already."

"As such, I don't think another few hours will make a great deal of difference. Presuming he's been at this location all that time, he is likely well settled and possibly suffering from Stockholm Syndrome by now, if he was taken by the adults of the house against his will. He will be fast asleep right now and being roused by invading Aurors in the middle of the night will not make him think kindly of you, especially if he still fears retribution of what happened with his uncle. You'll be better off going in the morning, when he is awake and energised and rather more likely to listen."

"You might want to reconsider that," Gareth said. "Look."

He was still looking at the register, the only one doing so as McGonagall was watching Dumbledore and puffing herself up to argue. He pointed to the name three up from the bottom of the list. It had an asterisk next to it, indicating a pupil the register picked up itself as opposed to someone who had applied for the school, like most pure- and half-blood students, but there was no 'M' next to the name indicating they were Muggleborn. That could mean a half-blood whose Muggleborn parent didn't realise they could apply for a position at the school, someone who had plans to attend a different school entirely, or someone whose magical parent wasn't involved in their life. It meant looking into the child to find out if they could just send an acceptance letter or if they would need a personal visit to explain the magical world.

"Victoria Valentine," McGonagall read. "The same address. Another kidnapped child?"

"Very possibly, but it means if you want an awake and energised Harry, you should go to visit now rather than in the morning."

"Why?" Sirius asked sharply.

Dumbledore had straightened up and looked down at Gareth in a way that some might describe as looming. "What do you know, Gareth?"

Gareth held his gaze. "Only this: that Lord Gabriel Valentine commands the largest vampire nest in Britain, and he lives in Nottinghamshire."

* * *

Harry and Tori were in the pool when they came. They had no idea there was even anything wrong until Gabriel and Lorna were marched in with a dozen Aurors and representatives from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Jennifer was reading by the pool, keeping watch as lifeguard, and she stood up and went for her wand but was immediately accosted and disarmed by two Aurors. Harry and Tori, who'd been trying to shove each other off a large inflatable turtle, stopped fighting to stare around them, grabbing at each other's hands.

Harry held Tori's like she was the one keeping him afloat instead of the turtle, terrified. His wand was with his clothes, up in his bedroom, because he hadn't felt the need to carry it everywhere in the house with him for nearly a year. It was a decision he regretted violently now, even if it probably wouldn't be much help against so many people. There were plenty of spells that attacked multiple targets at once, or covered a large area, but that was only any good if he could cast before they did, and trained Aurors were probably a little quicker on the draw than he was.

"As you can see," Gabriel said in a strained tone of politeness, "the children are perfectly fine."

One of the Aurors, a big burly woman, jabbed her wand into his throat. "Shut up."

"Leave him alone!" Tori cried. "What are you doing? Dad, what's going on?"

"We—" Gabriel began, only for the Auror to mutter a curse that drove him to his knees with a pained groan.

" _Dad!_ "

Tori made to jump into the water, but Harry pulled her back and they wobbled on the turtle, it threatening to overturn and dump them both. It steadied without capsizing, though, and just drifted a little towards the edge of the pool.

 _"Sto bene, Tori. Resta con tuo fratello._ "

Sirius Black broke away from the rest of the Aurors to crouch by the edge of the pool. "Please come out of the pool, children. We're not going to hurt you."

"What do you want?" Tori asked, voice shaking slightly, and neither of them made any move to push the turtle closer to the edge.

"We've come to take you away from here."

That only made Harry and Tori draw closer to each other. "No! You can't take us away, this is our _home_."

"These people are vampires, Victoria," Sirius said as if they didn't already know that. "They may look human, but they are vicious monsters that—"

"You shut up!" Tori yelled at the same moment Harry cried, "They are not!"

"Werewolves are monsters," Harry added. "You know that just like me, Mr Black, but vampires aren't. Gabriel and Lorna and the other vampires in the nest aren't."

"I can't trust your word on that, Harry," Sirius said, sounding faintly apologetic. "You're likely under the influence of the vampire seduction."

"Will you take my word?"

Harry gasped. Everyone else looked around as Gareth walked in, escorted by Edward and two other vampires, casually tapping his head in a two fingered salute of greeting as he glanced around at everyone, only to have Edward grab him by the arm in response. Several of the Aurors turned their wands on them and Sirius straightened up, looking furious.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Martin? I told you this was Auror business, not a place for civilians. Or are you a part of this? I knew you weren't what you said you were."

Gareth looked faintly amused. "If you mean to imply I'm a vampire—"

"No, just one of their lackeys. You've probably known where Harry was this entire time."

"I can assure you I didn't."

"We have never seen this man before," Lorna said, frowning at Gareth. "He has absolutely no connection to our nest."

"Speaking of which," Gabriel said, "we need to have a meeting about their response time. It's far longer than it should be."

"Resp-"

The windows smashed, the doors at the end of the room that opened into the garden were thrown open, and about three dozen vampires crashed into the room. As Harry had thought, the Aurors' reaction times were remarkable, but they were vastly outnumbered now and the vampires, while wandless, were fast and skilled.

The Aurors distracted, Jennifer jerked away from those guarding her, snatched her wand from the Auror pocket it was sticking out off, and flicked it at the inflatable turtle. It whizzed to the edge of the pool, almost throwing off Harry and Tori in the process, and the moment they were in arms reach Jennifer grabbed them both and Apparated.

They reappeared in Lorna's workshop and Jennifer immediately went to the far wall, muttered a spell that opened a gash on the back of her arm, and wiped the blood against the wall. A hidden door swung open.

" _Entrer._ _Rapidement._ "

They hurried in, standing close to the door until Jennifer flicked her wand to light the torches on the wall, which lit up a small, windowless room with two chairs and a single bed. Jennifer shut the door, tapped her wand to it, then conjured a couple of towels and dressing gowns for Harry and Tori, who were shivering slightly from cold and adrenaline, dripping water on the stone floor.

"What is this place?" Harry asked, wrapping the towel tight around himself.

"A safe room. No one but Gabriel, Lorna, and we three can open it."

"Do you think they're okay?" Tori asked worriedly. "What if the Aurors hurt them?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Jennifer reassured them, sitting down in one of the chairs. "The nest is more than a match for a handful of Aurors. Get dry and put on the dressing gowns."

"Do you think we'll have to stay here long?"

"No. Your parents will handle the Aurors and then we can rejoin them. We just need to stay here until then in case the Aurors get... careless."

"They're here for me, aren't they?" Harry said, leaving the dressing gown in favour of just tugging the towel tighter. "They've come to arrest me for killing my uncle."

"I'm sure they haven't, Harry. Trust your parents; they won't let you be taken away or come to harm."

* * *

In the pool, all the Aurors and Ministry representatives were disarmed and, in many cases, staying very, very still as a pair of fangs pressed against their jugular. Sirius was on the floor, an arm twisted behind his back and a vampire almost sitting on him in order to keep him down. Gareth was the only human not being forcibly restrained, though Edward still held him firmly by the arm.

Gabriel crouched in front of Sirius, smiling condescendingly. "Mr Black, was it? Next time you decide to invade my home and threaten my children, you might want to consider bringing more people."

"We came with a warrant; this wasn't an invasion. And they're not your children."

"We've raised Tori since she was born," Lorna replied sharply, "and Harry for over two years, and despite your claims we have never used the vampire seduction on him. We've never needed to."

"You expect me to believe that?" Sirius sneered. "He might be a kid, but he knows more than enough about monsters like—"

"We are not monsters!"

"You might want to mind your tongue, Mr Black," Gabriel said, no longer smiling. "Warrant or not, you're in _my_ house and you're still a danger to my children. I don't let people hurt my children."

"We're not here to hurt them," Gareth said. "Or take them away."

"Like hell—" Sirius began, and then had a knee dig into his back, silencing him. Gabriel straightened up, turning to Gareth with a frown.

"Who are you?"

"Gareth Martin. Pleasure to meet you. I'd offer my hand but your butler is cutting the circulation off to my arm."

At a slight gesture from Gabriel, Edward's grip loosened but didn't leave.

"Gareth Martin. Harry has mentioned you. A friend of his godfather, I believe?"

"Yes."

"Oh, so _that's_ it," Sirius spat, voice a little rough from the pressure on his back, but his gaze burning with anger as he looked up at Gareth. "You're a Death Eater. I knew you were a piece of shit, Martin."

"I'm not a Death Eater, and by godfather I presume Lord Valentine is referring to Severus Snape, not Remus Lupin."

"Snape wasn't his godfather."

"No, but Harry called him that in public. It tended to draw less questions than telling people Severus was his mother's old friend. Some people get a bit ridiculous about people who aren't obviously parental looking after children, especially when it's men. And really, after hearing Severus talk about Remus like he did, it was hardly any wonder Harry didn't want to consider _him_ his godfather. I mean, the man—"

"You like hearing yourself talk, don't you?" Lorna interrupted him. Gareth grinned.

"Yes, I do actually. I'm so very good at it."

"Then tell us something worthwhile: what are you doing here? You're clearly not part of the Auror raid, but you have a connection to Harry and turn up on the same day."

"Harry says you're a teacher at Hogwarts," Gabriel added. "Did Albus Dumbledore send you?"

"Nope. Sirius there is his unofficial errand boy. I'm just a friend of Harry's who wanted to check up on him and also I figured Sirius was going to go about it all wrong."

"Wrong? I followed Ministry procedure!"

"Exactly," Gareth snapped back, a harshness slipping into his previously light tone. "The Ministry are a bunch of morons who haven't the faintest idea of how to deal with part-human beings. They think being human makes them the best and that they can barge in and do whatever the hell they like, they never stop for a moment to consider that other species have different politics and customs, and then they wonder why they don't understand anything and are generally considered rude!"

Some of the vampires were obviously surprised and faintly approving. Sirius was still glaring. Gabriel gave Gareth a considering once over.

"And what would you know of our politics and customs, Mr Martin?"

"I know you don't hurt children, that you've raised human children as your own before, and that you make a personal enemy of any vampire who does harm children, especially those who turn them. I know you run this nest as a tough but fair lord, and the loyalty of your vampires is unquestionable, but if any of them did betray you then you'd make them painfully regret it."

"You know quite a lot."

Gareth grinned, obnoxiously cheerful now. "I was a member of your nest in a past life."

"I am in no mood for jokes right now."

"Who's joking? I'm being perfectly serious."

"I do not believe in re-incarnation."

"Oh, well, just because you don't _believe_ in it doesn't—"

"Mr Martin," Gabriel interrupted coldly, "might I remind you that you're not a Ministry official and therefore not under the protection of Mr Black's warrant, nor were you invited into the house by me or my wife, and as such I could kill you and suffer no more trouble than wiping your blood from the tiles."

"You'd probably want to change the water in—alright, alright!" he interrupted himself when Gabriel snarled. "I'm a descendant of Mirella Prince. She joined the vampire rebellion of the sixteenth century and kept a journal. Most of it's mad ramblings, but there's some relevant information amidst it."

"Mirella Prince... oh, yes, Aurelia's little pet. I remember her." He stared at Gareth with an expression that made the man tense, and when he spoke his voice was deceptively soft. "I'm going to assume that Aurelia is not making the same foolish mistake of sending you to spy against me too. Admit it now and I will only send your _body_ back in pieces, instead of your _mind_ like I did with your ancestor."

"I'm not here to spy," Gareth said earnestly. "I just wanted to see Harry, to make sure he was safe and happy, and let him know that he isn't to blame for what happened to his uncle."

Gabriel considered it, looking over Gareth then over the Aurors and Ministry representatives, and then at Lorna.

"We have to do something. They have a warrant."

He spoke in a vampire whisper—his voice little more than a rush of air that was so quiet as to be impossible for the humans to hear, but perfectly audible to the vampires, though still quiet even to their enhanced ears.

"Can they take the children? I'm not up to date on the current laws."

"Possibly." He frowned, glancing at Sirius, and amended, "Probably. There's no official law forbidding vampires from caring for human children, but that doesn't mean they won't proclaim us unfit guardians."

"Do you think we can convince them not to? You could use the seduction..."

"I can't use it on everyone. But... we might convince them to at least consider it a case for the Department of Family and Child Services."

"Harry's the problem, isn't he?" Lorna said with a frown. "His status, the circumstances of his disappearance... if we clear that up, we'll have a better chance of getting them to leave us alone."

"Agreed. We can't let them take him; if they do, we'll never get him back. Tori would be easier, but they'll never give Harry back to us."

Lorna nodded. "The drawing room?"

"Yes. Fetch them up, and get Harry his wand. Just in case."

She left immediately. At a gesture from Gabriel, Sirius was hauled to his feet.

"Mr Martin, you, Mr Black, and one of the Ministry... representatives... will accompany me to the drawing room, where Lorna will bring the children to us for you to talk with. The rest of the men can wait outside."

"I didn't come here to talk to Harry," Sirius said. "I came to take him away."

"To where?"

"To somewhere he belongs."

"He belongs where he'll be safe, and this is something we will discuss _in the drawing room_."

"I want a second Auror."

Gabriel refrained from sighing or rolling his eyes. "If that's what it take to make your feel secure, Mr Black. _One_ other Auror."

* * *

Harry and Tori went up to their rooms to dress properly before following Lorna into the drawing room extremely reluctantly, both trying to stay directly behind her so they couldn't be seen. Harry had his hand clutched around the wand in his pocket, mind focused on stunning, disarming, and other incapacitation spells. Jennifer came after them.

Gabriel lounged in a high-backed armchair, while Sirius sat more stiffly in the furthest seat from him, Kingsley Shacklebolt in the chair beside him, Gareth slouched in another looking perfectly at ease, and the representative from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a small bookish woman, perched nervously in the last seat. Edward stood at the side of the room.

"Who is she?" Sirius asked with a gesture at Jennifer. "You agreed to only three vampires, Valentine."

"I'm not a vampire," Jennifer answered for herself. "I'm the children's governess. Human, to care for them during daylight hours."

"Don't be frightened," Lorna said gently to Harry and Tori. "Your father and I won't let you come to harm."

They still stuck by her, standing close on either side of her and peering around at the room's occupants. Harry couldn't bring himself to meet Gareth's eyes. Gabriel watched them with a faint frown.

"Harry, Tori, these people wish to have a few words with you. Come out from behind your mother."

They glanced from Gabriel to Lorna then Tori edged forwards, still keeping close to Lorna's side but standing in full view. Harry remained half hidden behind Lorna, refusing to move even when she put a hand to his shoulder and tried to tug him forwards.

Gareth leant forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "Harry, we aren't here to arrest you. You are not in trouble over what happened with your uncle."

Harry couldn't help glancing up then, even as he clutched at the back of Lorna's blouse. "You know what I did."

He didn't apologise for what happened because he didn't feel guilty about it anymore. Living with vampires had rather altered his perception of life, death, and justice. Vampires spoke of death candidly and he knew that both his parents had killed people; to creatures that could live forever death was both the ultimate punishment—because for most creatures it was a matter of _when_ , whereas for vampires it was a matter of _if_ —and a necessity—if everything lived forever, the world would become grossly overpopulated exceptionally quickly. The death of a fellow vampire was mournful and the murder of one considered a gross crime, but the death of a human, with the exception of children, was considered inevitable and often justifiable seeing as there was so many of them.

With regards his uncle, the way Harry figured, he deserved what happened to him. He'd been about to hurt Harry, there was no doubt about that, maybe even kill him, so he got what was coming to him and Harry's only concern now was getting arrested. He might know it was an accident, but that didn't mean the Aurors saw it that way.

"I know you didn't mean to do it," Gareth said, "it was just a childish outburst of magic. You ran because you were scared, but you don't have to be. You won't be punished for what happened."

"But... I attacked him. With magic. And he's a Muggle."

"Still an accident, kid," Sirius said. "We're not in the habit of arresting people for accidents, especially not children. I give you my word as an Auror."

Harry looked between them, unsure whether to believe them. He'd never known Gareth to lie to him before. The man had always been kind to him, looked out for him and stepped up when Snape died, but he didn't have as much faith in Sirius.

"Do you mean it?"

"We've no reason to lie to you," Gareth assured him.

"That's not entirely true, Mr Martin."

Gareth glanced at Gabriel. Sirius ground his teeth.

"You want Harry removed from our care. Promising him amnesty for the attack on his uncle may be nothing more than a way to lure him away from his home."

"If that's all it takes he clearly doesn't want to be here anyway," Sirius remarked.

"I do!" Harry finally stepped forwards, hand clenching on the wand in his pocket. "This is my home. I want to stay here."

"In a house of vampires?"

"There's nothing wrong with vampires," Tori said defensively.

"It's our home," Harry reiterated. "We're happy here. Gabriel and Lorna look after us. They're better than my aunt and uncle ever were."

"I can believe that," Gareth murmured, but Sirius wasn't appeased.

"For all we know you're under the influence of a vampire seduction. Your word isn't enough."

"E-excuse me," said the Ministry representative, half-raising her hand as if she were in a classroom at school. Everyone looked at her and she flushed deeply, but said, "There is a potion that completely nullifies the effects of the vampire seduction."

"Is it safe for children?" Lorna asked.

"I-I don't know," the woman admitted. "It's never been used on children before, to my knowledge, but I think it would be safe."

"It is," Gareth said. "I know the potion you mean."

Sirius scowled at him. "You didn't think to mention this before?"

Gareth shrugged. "Unlike you, I don't think they have been seduced. Lord Valentine doesn't hurt children."

"According to some mad ancestor's journal?" Sirius sneered. Gareth ignored him.

"I can brew the potion," he offered, but Gabriel and Sirius immediately said no—and so did Kingsley.

"This is a Ministry matter, Mr Martin," Kingsley said, speaking for the first time. "A Ministry brewer will make the potion."

"They will not," Gabriel countered. "We cannot trust the Ministry not to brew something intended to make the children say what _you_ want. Someone unaffiliated with you or us will brew it."

Sirius couldn't argue with that, but he wasn't giving in just yet. "Regardless of this, we can't leave the children here. Until the potion is brewed, they're at risk and even when they're free of the seduction, it'll be up to Family and Child Services to decide if this is an acceptable home." He paused, remaining stoic under the murderous glares he was receiving from Gabriel, Lorna, and Jennifer. "Harry's placement will be under particular scrutiny."

"NO!"

Harry latched onto Lorna, clutching at her waist and glaring at Sirius.

"I'm not leaving," Harry insisted. "This is my home. Gabriel and Lorna look after me. They're... they're my parents."

He flushed slightly at the declaration, saying it for the first time without the desire to clarify that they were adoptive parents. Lily and James were his parents, but Gabriel and Lorna raised him and loved him just as much as he imagined his birth parents would have. It was wrong to say that they were somehow lesser than Lily and James because they didn't share genetics, and he decided it wasn't dismissive of Lily and James for him to say Gabriel and Lorna were just as much his parents. If they'd loved him as much as he thought they did, then they would just be glad that he had someone to look after him in their stead.

It still wasn't enough for Sirius.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said apologetically, sounding earnest enough but Harry still hated him. "Officially, they're not, and we can't leave the Boy Who Lived in the care of vampires. I'm sure you understand that."

"I'll run away," Harry threatened. "If you send me back to my aunt's, I'll run away again and make sure you never ever find me. How _did_ you find me?"

"It is a very pertinent question," Gabriel added when no one answered. "The protections on our home are not insubstantial and Harry has personal charms protecting him from detection. How did you find him?"

"The Hogwarts' register," Gareth answered, earning an angry glare from Sirius which he ignored. "The enchantments on it are benign and capable of slipping under the radar of most anti-detection spells because it searches for an individual magical soul as opposed to a physical body."

"There are spells to trick that," Harry said immediately, defiant and wanting them to understand that he meant it when he said he'd run away. The moment Gareth described the register, Harry thought of an admittedly complex spell that would make his soul extremely difficult to find. Its name and incantation were both unusual, even compared to a lot of the strange sounding spells he now knew the names of, a very old spell created in a now dead language. "I could make sure no one finds me."

"And if we didn't send you to your aunt's?" Sirius said. "Would you still run away?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

Sirius stood up and a wand slid out of his sleeve and into his hand. Gabriel immediately stood as well, dropping into a defensive stance, as did Lorna and Edward, Jennifer drew her wand and urged Harry and Tori back, and Gareth, Kingsley, and the Ministry representative leapt to their feet, the latter two drawing their wands as well, though Gareth didn't.

"Sirius, don't!"

"Stay out of this, Martin. The children are coming with us, Valentine. I came here today to collect them from a likely dangerous residence and I'm not leaving without them."

"Then you will not be leaving at all," Gabriel snarled.

Gareth took three steps and planted himself firmly between Sirius and the Valentines, his back to the vampires and hands raised defensively to Sirius.

"You'll gain nothing from this, Sirius."

"Get out my way, Martin. Don't think I won't curse you."

"Will you just think about it for a minute? What are you going to do with them even if you get them out of here?" Gareth asked, speaking quickly to try and say what he wanted before Sirius snapped. "Petunia Dursley has already refused to take him in again, so even if we forced her to the protections of her home against Voldemort no longer exist. They'll be given over to Child Services and I know you know how incompetent they are—and how easily bribed certain Ministry departments are. You might not care what happens to the girl, but I doubt you want Harry ending up with one of Voldemort's old followers or someone who couldn't protect him from them, and you know every higher-up to the Minister himself is going to want a say in where he's placed."

"Dumbledore will know what to do with him."

"Dumbledore barely kept him out of the Ministry's reach last time. The only person who could legitimately claim a legal right to him is currently comatose and imprisoned, and even that would be questioned given what he is."

"Don't even—he has _no_ claim to Harry _at all_ ," Sirius snarled, all his anger focused on Gareth now, wand directed at the man's chin. "He gave it up the minute he turned dark."

Gareth's left hand clenched. "Which leaves Harry a ward of the state. Do you really want Cornelius Fudge deciding where he ends up, especially when he's so deep in the pockets of men like Lucius Malfoy?"

"What other choice do I have, Martin? Leave him with a pair of vampires?"

"You have no evidence but your own prejudice to say they've been in anyway harmed or mistreated," Gareth insisted. "There's no law against vampires raising children; you only got that warrant today because of who Harry is. By taking them away you put them at more risk than if you leave them here."

"A-Auror Black?" said the Ministry representative hesitantly. "I-I think Mr Martin has a point. My department keeps records on Lord Valentine and historically he _is_ known for never harming children."

Sirius shot her a hateful look and she snapped her mouth shut with a slight squeak. He looked back to Gareth. "Even if that's all true, he knows there's a risk we'll take them when the potion is brewed. You see what he's like—do you expect him to hand them over without objection just because we came back with someone from Child Services who said the kids couldn't stay here? If we leave now without them, they'll all disappear for good, especially now you've told them how to avoid the Hogwarts' register picking them up."

"I have every faith that anyone from Child Services would find our home and our care more than acceptable," Gabriel said. "It's you that I don't trust to be fair in judgement, Mr Black."

"I don't care what you think. I am not leaving Harry Potter in the care of a bunch of vampires."

"What if someone stayed?" Gareth suggested hurriedly, before curses started flying and teeth met flesh. "What if someone stayed here until the potion is brewed and Child Services have done their assessment?"

There was a moment's silence at that suggestion. Harry didn't know what to make of it, unsure if it would be good or not. Gabriel and Lorna exchanged a glance, rapidly considering the advantages and fall backs of it. Sirius frowned.

"They could easily put whoever stayed under the seduction," he said, and Gareth rolled his eyes.

"You're going to have to take a little bit on faith, Sirius. If a compromise isn't reached, you're going to have an all out fight that you've no guarantee of winning, and even if you do you'll end up with two children who will hate you and who you're going to have to find a new home for and hope it's decent."

Sirius still looked angry, but he didn't argue with that. He glanced past Gareth to the Valentines, then to Jennifer and the kids, then back to Gareth.

"I suppose you've got a suggestion as to who?" he asked snidely. "And don't even think of saying yourself. I don't trust you, Martin."

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear. I wasn't going to anyway, I have to get back to Hogwarts for tomorrow evening—or today's evening, I suppose. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to find a replacement for me before the students arrived. Actually, I was going to suggest you."

"Fuck no!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Finally, something they agree on," muttered Gareth and Jennifer at the same moment, prompting Gareth to glance around with a grin that Jennifer scowled at. He quickly looked away again.

"I am not having that prejudiced, poor excuse of a man living inside my home."

"Gabriel, wait, I think it should be him," Lorna said, speaking over Sirius when he started to respond and earning disbelieving looks from both men. "I don't think Mr Black is going to trust anyone's judgement but his own. If he sees how we interact with the children, then he cannot argue it when the ruling comes down that we can keep them."

" _If_ ," Sirius corrected. "But I'm not staying in a house full of vampires. You had at least thirty of them in the pool."

"You could send the nest away for a while," Jennifer suggested, and when Gabriel looked at her she added, "I know it's not my place to speak on the nest's affairs, but if it's what's best for the children..."

"She has a point," Lorna spoke in a vampire whisper. "The nest can leave the house for a few weeks. The Ministry are probably going to rush this whole thing, given that Harry's involved."

Gabriel frowned, not happy with the idea, but he gave a terse nod. "I'll dismiss the nest—everyone but Edward. Will that suffice, Mr Black?"

His expression said not really, but he seemed to realise that this idea may be his best way of dealing with it. It didn't mean he was ready to give in easily, so even as he lowered his wand and straightened up from his fighting stance he said, "How can I be sure _you_ don't put the seduction me?"

Gabriel's lip curled. "I won't need to. You will see for yourself that the children are perfectly safe and happy here."

Sirius snorted dismissively, but finally stopped pushing. "Amelia Bones will have to give her agreement to this whole ridiculous idea," he said. "I have other cases; I can't work on them from here and there's no point me staying if I spend half my time leaving for work. Bones will have to find people to take over my cases for me."

"Then I suggest you contact her, Mr Black, so we can get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible."

* * *

It took the rest of the night to sort, but eventually the vampires were moved out and Sirius was settled into one of the guest rooms near to Harry and Tori's bedrooms. Harry and Tori ended up going to bed late, but Harry didn't sleep well and woke up no later than he usually did. Tori was still sleeping so he went down to breakfast alone. Gabriel and Lorna weren't in the family room or dining room, and Mr Richards wasn't in the kitchen when Harry got there, so he poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate alone in the kitchen. He was just finishing up when Edward came in.

"Young sir, the lord and lady request your presence in the drawing room. You have a guest."

Harry blinked. "A guest for me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who is it?"

"Mr Gareth Martin. If sir would accompany me to the drawing room..."

Harry trotted after him, nervously wondering what Gareth wanted and if the decision reached last night was about to be upturned. He had his wand in his dressing gown pocket—after yesterday, he was taking it everywhere with him, even the bathroom—and he wrapped his hand around it, preparing for the worst. He was somewhat surprised to find Gareth, Gabriel, and Lorna all seated calmly in the drawing room, but hardly looked at them long enough to register Gabriel's faint frown and Gareth's usual salute of a greeting, his attention drawn by what was on the floor.

"Lego Hogwarts!"

He ran over, dropping to his knees beside it. Of all the things he'd left behind when he ran away from the Dursleys, this was what he'd missed most. He touched it reverently, trailing his fingers over the familiar turrets and towers and delightedly looking inside at the figures still in the very same places he'd left them over two years ago.

"I don't... you brought this for me?" he asked, looking up at Gareth.

"It's yours. I moved everything you left at the Dursleys to Severus' old house, for safety, but now I found you I thought you might like to get it back. Starting with this."

He scrambled to his feet and threw himself at Gareth, grabbing him in a hug that surprised the man. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're quite welcome, Harry."

He pulled back, looking at Gareth. He hadn't changed at all since they'd last seen each other, except maybe looking a little older. He still wore his dark red hair in a ponytail that reached his hips and he still had a broad, welcoming smile for Harry. Staring at him now and remembering how defensive he'd been to Sirius the night before, how he'd been on Harry's side the whole time, Harry felt a sudden rush of gratitude that the man believed in him and didn't seem to want to take him away.

"I missed you," he said suddenly. Gareth smiled, squeezing his shoulder.

"I missed you too. I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I just thought Sirius would arrest me for attacking Uncle Vernon. I didn't mean to do it."

"I know. What happened that night?"

"I thought you already knew?"

Gareth shrugged. "I know most of it. What we could figure out from Dudley's statement and examining the scene, but I want to hear it from you."

Harry told him, explaining the fight at school, his punishment of being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, accidentally urinating on Vernon, and Vernon's reaction to that. "I thought he was going to kill me. He was really scary."

He felt a bit babyish for saying it, but he wanted Gareth to realise that he'd been justified in his attack.

"I don't doubt it. I've seen what your uncle can be like."

"Then why didn't you mention his living situation to anyone?" Gabriel asked, speaking for the first time since Harry came in. He and Lorna watched the two interact, wary but willing to not interfere as long as Gareth didn't seem a threat.

"I did, but his placement wasn't up to me. There was only so much I could do."

Lorna scoffed. "The excuse of every man."

Gareth glanced at her, but said nothing. He looked to Harry. "I'm glad you're safe, Harry, and I'll do what I can to make sure you stay here if that's what you want—"

"It is."

"I know. But I don't have a lot of sway with the Ministry. Sirius..."

"He thinks the worst," Harry said. "What if he tells everyone that Gabriel and Lorna are mean to me even though they're not?"

"He won't," Gareth assured him, but he saw the disbelief on Harry and the Valentines' faces. "He won't. Sirius may be stubborn and prejudiced, but he's not a liar. He may never be happy that you're being raised by vampires, but he's not spiteful. Or at least, he's less so than he used to be. I have faith that he'll do what's best for you, Harry, even if he doesn't necessarily agree that it's what's best. You won't have to leave here."

He glanced at his watch then and sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to get going. The students will be at Hogwarts in a few hours and I still have things to do. If your parents agree, then I'd like to come visit you again when I can get away from the school."

Harry look hopefully at Gabriel and Lorna.

"Under supervision," Lorna agreed. "With prior warning this time, and only after this mess has been sorted out."

"Of course. I probably won't be able to get away from the school for several weeks anyway, once the students have settled in."

Harry was reluctant to see him go, but his visit and the promise of seeing him again put to rest some of his unease from the events of the day before. He happily took Lego Hogwarts up to his room, but he didn't get much chance to play with it because Gabriel and Lorna were adamant that the events of the day before didn't upset their routine, so he woke Tori, dressed, and by half past one was seated in the classroom. Sirius, who looked as if he should really go back to bed for another twelve hours, insisted on sitting in on their lessons and Harry really wished he didn't; the man's mere presence put him on edge and made him mess up his maths worksheet.

They all expected Sirius to find fault with everything, so they were surprised that not only did he not take issue with Jennifer's lessons, but after interrogating her about their education he complimented her teaching plan.

"It's well rounded. We'll want to look into this Aiden Kelly that comes in to teach them magical theory, but it's a good idea. It'll put them ahead when they reach Hogwarts and Harry will definitely benefit from it."

No one mentioned that there was a strong chance he wouldn't attend Hogwarts. They all knew _that_ wouldn't be well received.

As it was a Thursday, their usual after-lunch lessons were postponed so Harry could go to his evening swimming club and Tori could have her weekly violin lesson. Mr Richard's drove Jennifer and Harry into Nottingham, as the sun didn't set early enough yet for the Valentines to take him, and Sirius insisted on accompanying them, which prompted a snide comment from Gabriel about how Sirius was clearly only interested in Harry if he was willing to leave Tori alone with vampires and the violin tutor that came in.

"I'm concerned for both these kids, but I'm not going to deny Harry is my biggest worry," Sirius admitted, fingering his wand while Harry and Jennifer lingered in the foyer and Harry wished, not for the first time, that the man had never found them. "Professionally and personally."

At the pool he spent half the lesson watching Harry and half of it moving between the other parents and asking them what they knew of Harry's home life, using his natural charm and sociability to put them at ease and get them talking. He didn't seem overly pleased by what he heard, but Harry was pretty sure that was because the man _wanted_ to hear bad things about the Valentines and was disappointed when he didn't.

On the way back to South Arlett, Jennifer turned to Sirius and asked, "What did you mean by having a personal interest in Harry's safety?"

"His dad was my best friend," Sirius explained. "I owe it to him to see that his son grows up safe."

"And happy," Jennifer added. "He is that with the Valentines."

Sirius shrugged. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

"If you're so concerned for him, why have you never offered to raise him yourself? Surely Harry's father would have appreciated that."

Sirius glanced at Harry, who was on the seat opposite him, damp hair starting to fluff around his head, watching Sirius intently.

"I'm not the parental type," he answered eventually. "I wouldn't have been good for him."

"Then what makes you think you have any right to judge anyone else?"

"It's a fair point," he admitted with a slight smile, "and mostly I'll leave it to whoever Child Services sends to decide if you and the Valentines are doing a good job of raising them, but I'm an Auror and Harry isn't just anyone. He's the Boy Who Lived. He needs particular protection from any of Voldemort's old followers that might want to hurt him for taking down their master, and I'm more than qualified to decide if you're good enough for that."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The assessor from the Department of Family and Child Services came the very next day for the first time. A stiff looking woman named Ms Gardner, she spent several hours conducting interviews with Harry and Tori, separately and together, asking question after question about their day-to-day activities, their education, how they felt about Gabriel, Lorna, Jennifer, and the vampires in the nest, whether they ever felt uncomfortable by anything anyone did to them, if anyone hit them even just once or not very hard, whether they had a 'special secret' with anyone. The only thing they lied about was being given vampire blood or seeing vampires feed; they both knew that would immediately get them taken away, even though the blood had been such a small amount and they didn't often see vampires feeding on people.

She then had similarly lengthy interviews with Gabriel, Lorna, Jennifer, Mr Richards, and Edward, and the only sign she gave as to her feelings on all their answers was to frown at the amount of subjects being taught. She was back the following Monday to inspect the house and observe their routine, and then again on Wednesday, and on Thursday she did more interviews. Harry overheard Gabriel telling Lorna that she had spoken to a number of the nest vampires as well, and to the healer that attended to Harry and Tori on the rare occasion they got sick or injured.

Sirius sat in on a lot of their classes and he inspected the house keenly, going over every inch except the nest's area, even Gabriel's study despite the vampire's constant looming presence, and walked the perimeter and inspected the small woodland that backed up the garden. He grilled Mr Richards intently about his food preparation, where he got all the ingredients, and about the various protection spells on the house and grounds, which he was also responsible for.

On Wednesday, a healer came to check their health, looking particularly for any bites or wounds that didn't come from typical childish rough and tumble. She discovered Harry's particular sensitivity to light, but fortunately didn't realise it was from ingesting vampire blood, instead determining it to be related to his imperfect eyesight, and she prescribed a potion to help with it. On Friday afternoon, just over a week after the Aurors first raided the house, Ms Gardner arrived at the Manor with a small, cheerful woman she introduced as Olive Green, the person hired to brew the potion that would nullify the effects of the vampires seduction. They were also accompanied by Kingsley Shacklebolt and four other Aurors—if the potion revealed anyone to be under the seduction, they wanted to act immediately.

Gabriel and Lorna were, none to happily, forbidden from being in the room while the potion was administered. Olive had four vials of it—one each for Harry, Tori, Jennifer, and Mr Richards, both of whom were being asked to take it due to their involvement in Harry and Tori's care—and it was an unpleasant looking sludge colour. Harry and Tori looked at it with unconcealed disgust, extremely reluctant to drink it.

They were separated to take it. Gabriel, Lorna, and Edward were sequestered in the drawing room, while Harry, Tori, Jennifer, and Mr Richards waited in the kitchen with Ms Gardner and Sirius, and were taken one at a time into the dining room by Kingsley to take the potion. Jennifer went first and didn't come back again, instead ushered out through the other door so she couldn't say anything to Harry and Tori. Mr Richards was called through next, just five minutes after Jennifer, but he wasn't finished so quickly and Kingsley asked Sirius and Ms Gardner in to talk.

It was twenty minutes before they were ready for Tori. Ms Gardner went in with her and, like Jennifer, it was only five minutes before Kingsley gestured for Harry to finally come through. He went nervously. The entire situation made him tense, and while he was almost certain that he wasn't under the vampire seduction, a little part of him wondered if maybe he was and what it was going to feel like when he came out of it.

Ms Gardner was still there and Harry felt like a fly under a microscope as everyone watched him take the vial of sludge and reluctantly lift it to his mouth. He hesitated to drink, but Olive and Ms Gardner gave him encouraging smiles and Sirius' anticipation was clear, no doubt eager to see Harry freed of the seduction so he could be justified in everything he'd been saying, so Harry braced himself and gulped the potion down.

Despite the colour and consistency, it was surprisingly sweet and not disgusting. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to have a visible reaction, but nothing did happen; he didn't feel any different and his opinions of the Valentines and his living situation didn't change. He put the empty vial down and looked at everyone.

"So... is that it?"

"What did it taste like?" Olive asked him.

"Sweet. Like that time me and Tori put a load of sugar in some water and drank it."

It was the right answer. Olive smiled, Ms Gardner nodded satisfactorily, and Sirius looked both disappointed and resigned.

"That's it then. If you were under the influence of a vampire seduction, it would have a tasted bitter."

"Then you're all going to go away?" he asked hopefully, glancing specifically at Sirius and Ms Gardner. "We're not under the seduction and you saw we were looked after, so you'll leave us alone and not try to take us away?"

"We need to go talk to Lord and Lady Valentine," Kingsley said, which wasn't an answer to his question. His rising hope that everything would be sorted sunk as Tori and Jennifer were called into the room and made to wait with Olive while Sirius, Kingsley, and Ms Gardner went to talk to the Valentines. They were gone for over half an hour and Harry and Tori spent the entire time straining their ears trying to hear anything. They knew the vampires could hear voices from several rooms away, but their own hearing wasn't anywhere near that good. It didn't stop them trying.

Almost forty-five minutes later, Ms Gardner returned and said they could rejoin Gabriel and Lorna in the drawing room. Harry and Tori ran the entire way there and threw themselves gladly into their parents' arms when they got there.

"Is it done?" Tori asked, arm still latched around Lorna's waist and head tilted back to stare up at her. "Is everything okay now? Will they leave us alone?"

"Yes, they're going to leave us alone," Lorna said with a smile. "Ms Gardner finds no fault with us and even Mr Black admits that this is a good home."

"Then we're staying?" Harry asked, wanting to hear it said specifically. "They're not going to take us away?"

"No, they're not taking you away."

Harry and Tori shouted their delight at that, earning smiles and laughs from some of the adults. Harry turned to Sirius, his broad grin mostly from joy and relief but also a little bit smug.

"I told you it was good here."

Sirius, not smiling and still not looking entirely happy with things, shrugged. "I had to make sure. Your dad would have come back from the grave to haunt me if I'd left you with vampires without making sure you were safe."

With no more reason to be there, Sirius and all the rest headed out and eventually the house was once again left to its occupants. Harry, the Valentines, and Jennifer relaxed in the family room, simply enjoying the relief of no longer having people looking over the shoulders and scrutinising their every move.

"What about Mr Richards?" Tori asked. She and Harry were comfortably nestled on the sofa between their parents, indulging themselves with coke and chocolate whilst they watched videos. It was only late afternoon, but the Valentines agreed that they could take the day off from lessons.

Harry nodded in agreement to her question, looking away from _The Land Before Time_. "Yeah, he was in with the potion lady for a really long time. Why? Where is he?"

"Mr Richards has been fired," Gabriel told them. "He was under the vampire seduction, which is why he was with Ms Green for so long. He was being interrogated. I hadn't put him under it," he added; Harry and Tori were looking at him in shock. "He's in a relationship with Marion, one of the nest vampires, and she put him under it as part of their relationship. He was aware of it, but he lied to us and never mentioned it despite knowing that when the Aurors found out it could put our custody of you in very serious danger, and so I had no choice but to fire him."

"Why would Marion put the seduction on him?" Harry asked, frowning. "Didn't he want to be her boyfriend?"

"He did," Lorna answered, "it's just something that some vampires do with human partners. You needn't worry about it."

"Okay. But who's gonna make our food now?"

"We will, or Jennifer, until we find a new cook."

"Is the new one going to be as good as Mr Richards?" Tori asked. "He makes the best birthday cakes and I don't want someone making a bad cake for my birthday."

That earnt chuckles from the adults and Gabriel promised, "We'll make sure to find someone who makes excellent cakes."

They talked no more until the end of the film. They turned off the TV and video player and Jennifer, at a few pointed looks from Gabriel and Lorna, excused herself from the room.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked when she left. Gabriel and Lorna were quick to assure them no.

"There's just something we'd like to discuss with you," Lorna explained. "In the past week, it's come to our attention that it's not actually illegal for vampires to adopt children. It's never happened before, but there's no official law against it."

"As such, we wanted to ask if you would like—"

"Yes," Tori interrupted, already grinning. "Yes, I want you to adopt me properly. That way no one could _ever_ take me away, could they?"

"As long as we continue to look after you like we have, then no," Lorna promised, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Gabriel looked at Harry. "How would you feel about it?"

He bit his lip, thinking about it. Did he mind? He'd already declared the Valentines his parents and Tori his sister, and he'd be protected from the Ministry or Sirius or anyone trying to take him away again. What did he have to lose from being adopted? It wouldn't make Lily and James any less his parents, as long as he continued to remember them. They would want him to be safe and happy, he was sure, and being officially adopted would do that. The only thing he might lose was...

"What about my name?"

"What about it?"

"Do I have to change it? Do I have to be Harry Valentine?"

Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "No. At most, you might have to be hyphenated—Potter-Valentine—but we would never ask you to give up your name, unless you wanted to."

"I don't," he told them. He was happy with being adopted, but he needed to keep that visible connection with his birth parents too. "I think... Potter-Valentine is probably okay. I'd like to be adopted properly too."

"It may not go easy," Gabriel warned. "We're still vampires and it's still going to be difficult to convince them. The assessment of the past week will work in our favour, but we may have to undergo more questioning and examination, and they may decide to refuse us. You need to be aware of that. And, of course, we cannot do a full magical adoption because the ritual involves a blood exchange. It would be paperwork only."

"I don't care," Tori said stubbornly. "I want you to try and if they say no then they're stupid idiots because you're the best parents anyone could have."

* * *

They found a new cook/driver in just a few weeks, a German Muggleborn witch named Ada Khaler, and at the end of September Gabriel and Lorna received a politely worded letter from Gareth requesting a visit. They allowed, but they met with him privately before allowing him to see Harry. When he'd come the day after the Auror raid, they'd questioned him on his relationship with Harry and they did so again, more intensely this time, trying to get a feel for who he was and whether or not he was a threat to their custody of Harry or Tori. He took their questions in stride, answering each one without complaint and with answers they couldn't disapprove of—which left Gabriel still suspicious of him, feeling that he was far too calm about being interrogated by a pair of vampires.

"You mentioned that you wished to bring some things with you," Lorna said eventually, after all their rather more personal questions. "What was it?"

Gareth reached into his pocket and drew out a drawstring pouch and two keys, both small but one golden and the other tarnished steel. He put all three on the desk.

"These are keys to his Gringotts vaults. As his legal guardians, they should be in your care now."

Lorna frowned and Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "A ten year old has two Gringotts vaults?"

"That was from his parents—his birth parents, the Potters," he said, tapping the golden key, and then tapping the steel one, "and that is from Severus Snape. He left it to Harry in his will, although under the condition that he not be allowed to access it until he's seventeen."

Gabriel drew the keys across the desk and slid them into a drawer. "We'll look after them, but we're more than capable of providing for our children. What's in the pouch?"

"Harry's old toys and other belongings that he left behind when he ran away. If you'll allow me to enlarge it back to proper size...?"

They nodded, watching cautiously in case he took the opportunity to attempt to curse them, but he merely did as he said he would and emptied the sack to let them inspect everything inside. The toys were looked over only briefly, but Gabriel took special interest in the two-way mirror, demanding an explanation for it and frowning when he got it.

Lorna didn't look any more impressed. "For all you proclaim to care about Harry, you clearly knew his aunt and uncle were unfit guardians and did nothing to get him away from them."

Gareth's left hand clenched and he scratched at it with his right, the first sign he'd given all night that he was discomfited. "I did what I could."

"What you could wasn't good enough."

"Yes," he said stiffly, "I am well aware of that."

"At least you're aware of your short-comings."

"Painfully so," he agreed.

"Why should we let someone like that visit our son?" Gabriel asked him, setting the mirror flat on the desk.

"Because it would be unkind to Harry not to? It's not like I'm asking for joint custody or anything. I'm not an idiot and Harry certainly doesn't expect it of me even if he wasn't so happy with you both. I just want to visit occasionally and to be allowed to give him presents on birthdays and Christmases like I did before. Nothing more than a family friend would."

They agreed, eventually, and when Harry and Tori finished their lessons for the night they met with Gareth and their parents in the drawing room, where Harry was pleased to get back his old toys, although he had new copies of most of the board games and puzzles. The _Famous Figurines_ brought back old twinges of sadness, but it had been long enough since Snape's death that it didn't hit him quite so hard anymore. The Valentines hadn't bought him anymore _Famous Figurines_ in the past two years, but as he looked over his old figures he thought he might like to start collecting them again.

Gareth left not long after, but he was back again on Hallowe'en evening. It wasn't a big holiday in Lynott Manor. The vampires had mixed opinions—some felt is a was a good way to blend in, some considered all the people running around dressed up as an affront to their species, and others just saw it as another commercial holiday. Gabriel and Lorna shared this last opinion, but they let Tori dress up and go trick-or-treating in the village.

Harry continued to not celebrate the day, but for his first two Hallowe'ens with the Valentines he had to settle for setting up a small shrines of photos and lighting a candle in remembrance to Lily and James, unable to visit their graves. This year he waited in the foyer of the manor, dressed warmly and impatiently waiting for Gareth to arrive, while Tori was moaning about how long there was before she could go trick-or-treating. Gareth came at exactly half past four and Harry answered the door before Edward could, Gabriel and Lorna close behind him despite the dim daylight still shining over from the behind the manor. They still had some distrust of Gareth, who greeted them all with his usual small salute.

"Lord Valentine, Lady Valentine, nice to see you again. Hey, Harry."

"Hi, Gareth."

Gabriel's hand landed on Harry's shoulder, but his gaze never left Gareth. "Mr Martin, I hope you realise that if you have not returned our son in two hours, we will hunt you down."

"I don't doubt it. I'll have him back by half six, just like I promised."

Gabriel and Lorna said nothing, but their expressions very clearly said, _You had better_.

Gareth and Harry walked down to the end of the driveway in silence and then Gareth Apparated them both to Godric's Hollow. They still said nothing as they walked into the village proper and entered the graveyard. Harry found himself feeling nervous as he approached Lily and James' graves. It was three years since he'd last visited them; he had so much to say, so much to explain, and despite the belief that they wouldn't mind his being taken in and adopted by the Valentines, he still felt nervous telling them about it.

As always, they went to the pub for dinner after and they finally spoke as they waited for the food to come.

"So... how are things, Harry?"

He glanced up from the table. "Good. I'm happy with the Valentines. It's my home."

Gareth smiled. "I'm sure you are, Harry. It was a harmless question. I'm not a spy for the Ministry or anything like that. I'm not trying to trick you into saying something bad about them that'll be used to take you away from them, I promise you."

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed. "I know. You're my friend."

"I am."

"But I am good."

"I'm glad. Have you been busy? Tell me about your days. We've a lot of catching up to do."

Harry told him, hesitantly at first, but then far more openly than he'd talked to Ms Gardner, munching on his burger and chips in between subjects. He didn't just rattle off the list of lessons he took and the activities he did, but chatted about his friends at the swimming club, puffed himself up proudly when he mentioned the badges and certificates he'd earnt, and grumbled about how horses were uncomfortable and violin lessons hard and magical theory boring, all without worrying that it'd be taken as a sign of abuse or neglect.

"What about Victoria? You get on well with her?"

"Uh huh. But we call her Tori, not Victoria. She's pretty good for a sister. She's better at the violin than me, but she's been playing it since she was four so that's why, and she's not as good at swimming as me."

"Yeah? Is she in your swim club?"

Harry shook his head, finishing off the last of his chips. "She does gymnastics on Saturdays. Jennifer said she's good enough to do competitions and stuff, but that means she'd have to join the advanced club and have practice nearly every day and Tori said she doesn't want to do that."

"That's fair enough. You like Jennifer as well? She seems very nice."

"She is. She's our governess, but she's kind of like our aunt too because she's part of the family, but way better than Aunt Petunia."

Gareth laughed at that. "I imagine most people are better than Petunia." He glanced at the clock on the wall of the pub and sighed. "Quarter past six. I better by getting you back before Lord Valentine comes looking for us."

They pulled their cloaks back on and headed out, making their way towards the edge of the village to Apparate away from Muggle eyes. As they reached the outskirts, where the glow of the houses was dimmer and they had only Gareth's torch to light their way, Harry spoke hesitantly.

"Hey, Gareth, if I tell you something do you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Of course. You can always tell me anything in confidence."

Harry nodded, hesitantly glancing around before admitting, "Gabriel and Lorna are trying to adopt me and Tori."

"Are they? That's nice."

"Do you think my other mum and dad would mind? Lily and James, I mean?"

Gareth stopped at the edge of the village, turning to face Harry and holding his Muggle torch so it lit up both their faces. "Do you want them to adopt you? Will it make you happy?"

"Yeah."

"Then I think Lily and James wouldn't mind at all. They loved you, Harry, and all loving parents want is for their child to be safe and happy. If the Valentines adopting you does that, then they'll be glad for it."

Harry smiled, relieved. As much as he'd convinced himself, it was still nice to hear it from someone else.

He took Gareth's arm and they Apparated back to Lynott Manor. Gabriel was already waiting for them out the front of the house and he pulled Harry into a hug as soon as he saw him, squeezing his shoulders then checking him over critically before straightening up and looking to Gareth.

"You seem to be a man of your word, Mr Martin."

"I try to be."

"That's good to hear. Your support for Harry is appreciated."

Gareth smiled, accepting the gratitude with a nod. "If it's alright, I'd like to visit on Christmas as well, and bring a gift. I can bring one for Tori, too."

Gabriel considered it, gaze lingering on Gareth for long enough to make him fidget slightly, but he nodded. "That would be acceptable."

Gareth grinned. "Great. See you in a couple of months then. Good night, Harry. Good night, Lord Valentine. Please give my regards to your wife and daughter. Oh, and the delightful Jennifer. Tell her I do hope she had a good night."

He gave the usual salute then spun about and sauntered away. Gabriel watched him until he'd vanished through the gates at the end of the driveway and there was the faint pop of distant Apparition.

"I think he fancies Jennifer," Harry remarked.

"He's going to be sorely disappointed, then," Gabriel said as they turned to go back inside. "I can guarantee she has no interest in him."

"How do you know? She doesn't have a boyfriend, does she? And Gareth is really nice."

"He could be the nicest man on earth and Jennifer still wouldn't be interested. She's a lesbian."

"Oh," Harry said, wide eyed. "I didn't know that."

"I suspect Jennifer saw no reason to tell you; it has nothing to do with being your governess, after all. Does Gareth always give that half-arsed salute to people?"

"Yeah, it's his _thing_."

"His _thing_?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, that's what he said when I asked him about it ages ago. It's just his thing that he does. Why?"

"Because I have to admit that I'm not sure if he thinks his attitude is genuinely respectful or if he's trying to mock me."

"I don't think he's mocking you," Harry said earnestly. "I think that's just what he's like. He really means it when he says he's glad I'm happy to be here. He's not like Sirius Black or all those other people from the Ministry."

"That I'm sure of," Gabriel replied, "but there is certainly something about him. There's a curious smell to him too; I'd like to see what he tastes like."

Harry stopped midway across the foyer. "You want to bite him?"

He was used to the blithe way the vampires sometimes talked about blood and feeding on people, but he'd never heard it said in regards to anyone he actually knew and it felt a little more strange to hear Gabriel say he wanted to feed on Gareth.

"I wouldn't say no if I had the chance."

"Oh."

Gabriel's expression faltered slightly, as if only just realising what he'd said. "Does that... are you alright?"

"Yeah. I just never thought about you feeding on someone I know. It's okay. I dunno if Gareth would like it though, but I won't tell him. He might get scared and not visit anymore."

"Good plan."

* * *

Tori's eleventh birthday passed just over a month later, at the start of December. Gabriel gave her another small amount of vampire blood, a top up he said, and it just slightly enhanced her strength and hearing a little, but also improved her sense of smell this time. A couple of weeks after that, it was the winter holiday.

The winter holiday was a little different in the Valentine household than it had been at the Dursleys, but not in a bad way. The first year there, Harry didn't know what to make of it. He had been in the house a year by then and felt welcome enough to not fear that he wouldn't be involved with what he'd always considered a family holiday, but he'd been surprised when Gabriel and Lorna sat him down and asked him how he normally celebrated.

"We don't want you to give up anything just because you live with us now," they explained. "Your history and traditions are important to you and we'll accept and accommodate them."

When he'd hesitantly explained his view of Christmas, and his minimal involvement with it, they'd said it could easily be incorporated into their usual festivities. Gabriel had been born a Roman citizen in the first century BC and as lord of the nest, he decided most of the holidays. It was a shock to Harry, who wondered why he didn't have a Roman name, but Gabriel told him 'Valentine' was simply a modernisation of his Roman cognomen and 'Gabriel' a name he'd chosen himself, and not the only one he'd used in his long life.

While he was not a fanatical god worshipper, and did not ask his family or the other vampires in the nest to subscribe to his beliefs, he did still believe in the gods he'd grown up worshipping. As such, they celebrated Saturnalia rather than Christmas, though it seemed much the same thing to Harry, if rather less structured.

Lorna had been Christian as a human, but she lost her faith in God when her children died and for a long time had only celebrated Christmas as a matter of tradition rather than religion. When she met and married Gabriel, she was content to take on his rituals of the holiday instead.

They had looked into Japanese festivals and celebrations when they took in Tori, but decided to raise her with their beliefs and ask as she got older if she wanted to learn more about the traditions that her biological parents may have followed. She wasn't interested. Her birth father had been a married man who slept with Tori's mother whilst away on business, and Tori's mother had been disowned in disgrace when her family discovered her out-of-wedlock pregnancy. It was why she'd ended up on the street, dying in childbirth and nearly losing Tori in the process, if it hadn't been for the Valentines finding her. As such, as far as Tori was concerned the Valentines were the only parents she had and she was only interested in their traditions and holidays.

At Privet Drive, the Dursleys had gone to midnight mass (even Harry had been dragged to that in the hope it would 'cure him of his freakishness') and then Dudley would be permitted to open one present before being sent to bed. In the morning, while Harry hid in his room with his small pile of gifts, Dudley tore into piles of presents, spent the morning playing (and often complaining about something being the wrong colour or size or brand) until Christmas lunch, where the three Dursleys would gather around the dinner table for a big meal of roast turkey, roast potatoes, vegetables, and all the other typical Christmas foods. Afternoon was for relaxing, more playing and complaining from Dudley, and in the evening a Christmas movie would play on TV. By bed time, the whole thing seemed to be done with and a week and a half later the decorations would be pulled down.

At Lynott Manor, Saturnalia celebrations began on the seventeenth of December and lasted until the twenty-fifth. They decorated the entire mansion with the same kind of winter-themed decorations as Harry was used to, although lacking Father Christmases, elves, and nativity scenes, and everyone was invited to relax and enjoy themselves. The vampires filled the whole house more than they normally did, providing entertainment with music or plays; vampires who didn't normally live or spend much time in the manor would come around; and both human and non-nest vampires were invited to the celebrations. (The latter only after being checked and vigorously warned against harming Harry and Tori.) Rather than having structured meal times, there was a constant banquet of foods available for Harry, Tori, Jennifer, and any human guests, and all the kids' lessons and activities were put on hold for a full three weeks surrounding Saturnalia. There was no single day when they received a big pile of presents like on their birthdays, but gifts were exchanged between everyone over the course of the week.

It was also the only time of the year Harry and Tori saw the vampires feeding. Although Gabriel and Lorna had no specific rules about it, the vampires were generally encouraged to keep their feeding to the nest area. Harry and Tori had seen humans come and go from the house and knew they were being fed on, but only at Saturnalia did they actually see it happening. The first time Harry saw it he'd been gobsmacked, even knowing that it happened; it was a lot different to actually see a vampire sink their teeth into someone's wrist. Gabriel had offered to forbid them from doing it, but Harry didn't want everyone to know that he was the reason their celebrations were restricted, and it wasn't so bad after he got past the initial surprise. They didn't kill anyone, so he could handle seeing them licking blood from their lips while the humans pressed bandages to their wounds to stem the bleeding.

In deference to Harry, on the twenty-fourth the Valentines had a family night with just the four of them and Jennifer (who was as much a part of the family despite officially being only their governess), during which they gave each other gifts and simply spent time together as a family, without the boisterous celebrations of the rest of the household. It was, Harry thought, way more fun than Christmas at the Dursleys.

That year, both of them were very surprised by their main present. Due to the vampires' effect on most animals, they had never been allowed any pets except fish. Harry never minded, but Tori had always wanted a kitten—which was exactly what Jennifer brought into the room after they were all settled.

"A kitty!" Tori squealed, pulling the little black fluffball from the cat carrier. Jennifer left again, but Tori didn't even notice. "But you always said we couldn't have pets!"

"Yes, but you'll be off to school next September and we know it's common for students to take an animal with them," Gabriel explained.

"But she won't like you, will she?" Tori asked worriedly even as she grinned at the kitten clambering up her arm to sit on her shoulder and stick its nose in her ear.

"It's a he," Lorna corrected her, "and we gave him some of our blood. Not enough to turn him, but just enough that he won't be as instinctively afraid of us as he normally would be."

"Can you turn animals into vampires?" Harry wondered.

"Yes, but it's never a good idea. They're nearly impossible to keep under control."

Harry couldn't imagine the little kitten now climbing onto Tori's hair would ever be difficult to control, but then he thought of the horses being vampires and shuddered.

"And whilst you may not be going to school," Lorna said to Harry, looking towards the door as Jennifer came in once more, "in the name of fairness, we got you something too."

Jennifer had a plastic carrier that she handed to Harry, inside of which there was—

"A snake?"

"The only thing suitable for a Parselmouth," Gabriel said.

Harry couldn't argue with that. The Valentines had known about his Parselmouth ability for a long time and they'd never considered it something evil or something he should be ashamed of. As they put it, how could anyone think that the Boy Who Lived was an evil wizard? Snakes were less of a problem, too; reptiles didn't react to vampires with the same animal dislike as mammals did. He opened the lid of the box and held his hand out to the young female black and white king snake, which poked her head out to flick her tongue at his fingers.

"Look at his _feet_ ," Tori said, holding the kitten in her hands. She'd barely glanced at Harry and the snake, completely enamoured with the kitten. "They're so cute and fluffy. I'm gonna call him Mr Flufflefoot."

"That's not a name," Harry scoffed. Tori scowled at him.

"It is too. Anyway he's my cat so I can call him what I like. What are you naming your snake?"

"I don't know. _Hello there_ ," Harry said to the snake. " _What's your name?_ "

She hissed, but the only clear word he could make out was, " _Name?_ "

" _Yes, what's yours?_ "

Another unclear hiss, then: " _What's... yours?_ "

" _I'm Harry. Would you like me to give you a name?_ "

" _Name?_ "

And then he realised: she was just a child. She barely knew any words, was just repeating what she heard. He forgot that snakes weren't actually very loquacious; the few adders and grass snakes that he found slithering around the manor's huge garden had been very limited in their speech. He shouldn't be surprised that this snake, who was barely twelve inches long and no thicker than his pinky finger and so obviously very young, would have even more limited speech.

" _I'm going to call you Samantha,_ " he told her. Just because she couldn't speak much yet didn't mean she couldn't learn and he didn't want to be one of those people that talked to their pets in baby-talk.

" _Sa-tha?_ "

" _Sa-man-tha,_ " he repeated.

" _Sam-tha._ "

Aware that his family were watching him, he smiled and left it at that. She'd get there eventually. "I'm calling her Samantha," he told his family.

"That's not an interesting name," Tori said.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Harry replied defensively.

"But it's a normal name. You're supposed to give pets pet names. Like Fluffy or Mr Tibbles or Sir Hiss."

"Well I'm calling her Samantha. And it's better than Mr Flufflefoot."

"Alright, children, there's no need to argue," Gabriel interrupted them. "Both of the names are good. We have something else we'd like to give you."

They looked up from their new pets with interest as Gabriel and Lorna left their chairs to kneel before them.

"Hold out your hands."

They did so, Harry placing Samantha's box down, Tori with Mr Flufflefoot perched on her shoulder, both curious as to what was happening. Gabriel and Lorna each pulled a roll of parchment from their pockets, wrapped in a black ribbon, and placed them on Harry and Tori's upturned hands.

"What's this?" Tori asked.

"Open them."

Harry and Tori glanced at each other then did so, tugging the ribbon away and unrolling the parchment. For a moment there was silence as they read what was on them, then Tori squealed, dislodging Mr Flufflefoot as she flung herself at Lorna, wrapping her arms around her neck. Gabriel caught Mr Flufflefoot, who was mewling unhappily, and smiled at Tori's antics but watched Harry carefully, waiting for his reaction. Harry stared at his parchment, running one trembling finger over the words written across it.

ADOPTION CERTIFICATE

And underneath:

NAME AND SURNAME OF CHILD  
Harry James Potter-Valentine

NAME AND SURNAME AND ADDRESS OF ADOPTER OR ADOPTERS  
Gabriel Valentine, Lorna Valentine  
Lynott House  
South Arlett  
Nottinghamshire

"Harry?"

He started, glancing up, and noticed all three of them looking at him. Jennifer had left the room, but Harry hadn't noticed when. A smile spread across his face and he stood, hugging Gabriel hard then shifting when Lorna and Tori came over for a four-way hug. No one said anything, but they didn't need to.

* * *

Gareth was supposed to come after lunch on the twenty-fifth, but he Floo called to say an urgent incident at the school required his presence and he didn't know when, or even if, he would be able to come. Harry sulked; he'd been looking forward to seeing Gareth again, to showing off Samantha and telling him about the adoption being finalised.

He called again at about ten o'clock that night to say that he was able to come visit now if it was acceptable. Gabriel was inclined to refuse him, but Harry begged and he relented. The Floo network wasn't set up to allow visitors to actually come through, only to call, so fifteen minutes later Gareth turned up at the front door of the house.

"If you're going to make a habit of postponement, Mr Martin, then we may have to reconsider permitting you to visit," was the first thing Gabriel said, before Gareth even had chance to shrug out of his cloak for Edward to take.

"I apologise, I do. I sincerely hope this doesn't happen again."

"Hope?" Gabriel repeated, unimpressed. "You _hope_ it doesn't happen again?"

"Yes," Gareth said quietly, something in his voice managing to stop Gabriel's words. "I very sincerely hope that none of my students try to commit suicide again, especially at Christmas."

Gabriel said nothing more on the matter.

As promised, Gareth brought gifts. For Harry he had a three foot inflatable killer whale enchanted to swim whenever it was put in water, and for Tori a video documentary on tigers. He brought a genuine Victorian-era dress for Jennifer, not just a modern-made reproduction, which she was delighted with. Harry once asked her about her clothing choices, whether it was something that went with her position because, he'd learnt, governesses weren't a modern thing, but she'd told him it was simply a matter of preference. Lastly, for Gabriel and Lorna, Gareth had brought a bottle of wine.

"Don't you know vampires can't drink wine?" Tori said when she saw it. She was unsure about Gareth, aware that he was important to Harry but picking up on Gabriel's distrust, although Gareth's earnest statement that Mr Flufflefoot was an excellent name for a cat put her more in favour of him.

"This is a special wine," Lorna answered for Gareth, looking impressed. "Incredibly rare."

"Incredibly expensive," Gabriel remarked. "Far more than I would expect a teacher to be able to afford."

"I have private funds," Gareth explained, "and the Lord and Lady Valentine deserve only the best."

"It will need storing properly. Mr Martin, I'd like a word; would you accompany me to my office?"

Harry looked worried, but Gareth shot him a disarming grin as he followed Gabriel out. The two men walked in silence through the manor to Gabriel's office, Gabriel passing off the wine to Edward to store properly when they passed him. At his study, he gestured Gareth inside ahead of him, shut the door, and without warning grabbed the man by his shoulders, jerked his collar down, and sank his teeth into the soft flesh of his neck.

Then an invisible blast knocked him away, his teeth tearing at the flesh of Gareth's neck before he was thrown across the room to slam into a bookcase. The blow would have winded a human, but Gabriel merely staggered slightly before catching himself and straightening up, books toppling down around him. Gareth, a hand pressed to his throat, turned to face him and his expression of absolute calm put Gabriel on edge. He attacked so suddenly precisely to see how Gareth would react, but almost no one looked that calm after being unexpectedly bitten by a vampire.

"Next time you want a taste of me, you can ask," Gareth said without a hint of hysteria or the faintest tremor to suggest he was struggling to keep his composure. "You'll find I'm really quite reasonable, Lord Valentine. I'll forgive you this once, for your children's sake, but if you try anything like that again I can guarantee you I will react accordingly."

"I am not frightened of a man," Gabriel replied, but he was unnerved by Gareth's attitude, though he would never admit it. It wasn't that no one had ever stood up to or threatened him before, but he had always been able to sense the smallest slither of fear underneath a human's bravado, to hear their heart pounding beneath their chest or smell the sweat trickling beneath their clothes. Gareth's heart rate was elevated slightly, but not as much as it should be.

"And I am not frightened of you. Do not underestimate me, Lord Valentine. I am far more dangerous than most people ever imagine. You can stop trying to use your seduction on me, as well. It won't work."

He spoke the truth. There was more to this man than met the eye and Gabriel could feel the way his seduction power just slid over the man like oil across water. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, but it was one Gabriel hadn't felt in over a thousand years. It was the effect of a soul already trapped under powerful magic, because that was how the vampire seduction worked. It didn't affect the brain, like the Imperius Curse and other manipulation spells did; it burrowed into a human's soul and made them want, feel, and desire whatever the vampire wanted them to.

"Your soul is not your own," he noted. Gareth said nothing and Gabriel smiled. "So you come into my home under the power of another, following the orders of whatever Master it is you serve—"

"No. My Master has no idea I'm here. He does not control me any longer."

"Were that true, you'd be dead. I'm not unfamiliar with old magics, Mr Martin. I may have only had a small taste, but it was enough. You are someone's Slave—mind, body, and soul. There is but one escape from that kind of magic."

Gareth gave a cocky grin. "Technically, yes, but there are ways it can be twisted and manipulated, and there are distances one can put between one's self and one's Master. Mine is very far away and knows nothing of what I'm doing or where I am."

"For now. If I believe you."

Gareth shrugged. "Do, don't, it doesn't bother me. I know the truth. Just believe that I am no threat to Harry or the rest of your family or nest."

Gabriel said nothing. His expression displayed every bit of his scepticism. Gareth's cockiness faded to mild irritation.

"When have I ever been a threat to you, Lord Valentine? Excepting my reaction to being bit, which was perfectly justified. I have never been anything but polite, respectful, and helpful. I was the one who pointed out that there was no actual law against vampires adopting."

"Your respect is questionable," Gabriel replied, ignoring his last statement. "It can easily be interpreted as mocking."

Gareth grimaced and had the grace to look apologetic. "I don't mean it to. That's just my nature. If I was _actually_ being disrespectful, there'd be no doubt about it. I certainly wouldn't call you 'Lord'; I'm shockingly rude when I'm being disrespectful."

"That I can believe."

They fell silent, watching one another. Gabriel still wasn't sure what to make of the man, whether to take his respect and helpfulness at face value. It was true that if not for Gareth then the incident with the Aurors in September would have gone very differently, and Gabriel wouldn't have known there was the slim possibility of adopting Harry and Tori, but he was still a mostly unknown entity who could be playing a long game of deceit. His resistance to the vampire seduction, while not damning, was unencouraging and Gabriel would dearly like to know who it was that had put him under such a powerful magic. He had no illusions that Gareth would tell him if he asked, however, and as long as Gabriel didn't know then he could never trust that the man's Master was not an enemy, even if Gareth himself wasn't.

Gareth broke the silence. "So what now, Lord Valentine?"

It was a careful choice of words, using his title when he needn't have mentioned his name at all, and Gabriel had no idea whether it was genuine or not. He couldn't trust Gareth, not until he knew who controlled his soul. But he also had Harry to consider, and so far Gareth hadn't objected to any of Gabriel's restrictions on his interactions with Harry—and Gabriel suspected he was aware that Jennifer had followed him and Harry to Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en, at Gabriel's command. So for now he would leave things as they were, allowing Gareth his visits but keeping a close watch on him. He just had one request to make of the man.

"With your permission, I'd like a taste of your blood, Mr Martin."

Silently, Gareth tugged down his collar. Gabriel crossed the distance between them and sunk his teeth into the bared flesh before Gareth could change his mind, a little harder than necessary and eliciting a soft grunt from the man. He didn't drink much, though he was sorely tempted. Magical blood had a certain rich taste to it and Gabriel had always preferred it to Muggle blood; Gareth's was particularly rich, marking him a notably powerful wizard, but there was also a hint of bitterness to it that betrayed a predisposition towards dark magic. It didn't bother Gabriel; in his time, the difference between 'light' and 'dark' magic was almost non-existent and he didn't hold with the modern distinctions.

He drew back, wiping a thumb over his lips to remove the excess blood then licking it clean while Gareth conjured a bandage for himself and covered the wound, putting a glamour over the whole thing to hide it from view.

"No sense drawing questions from the children about why you've been biting me," he explained at Gabriel's questioning look. "Are we done here?"

Gabriel nodded, ran his tongue over his teeth one last time, and led him out.

* * *

Since the Auror raid and the revelation that he was still on the Hogwarts register and not going to be arrested, Harry had been thinking about his plans for his education, and the pets at Saturnalia only made him think more. He knew that the plan they had was a good one, that it made sense for him to continue with home-schooling that was tailored to his skills, but the more he thought about it, the more he saw Tori getting excited about the upcoming school year and her indecision over whether to attend Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, the more he felt unwilling to go ahead with the plan. He felt envious of Tori's excitement, jealous that she would get to attend a school with other children their age, to make friends—magical friends, rather than the Muggles in the village and at their clubs—and to experience life away from home.

And he'd spent most of his childhood looking forward to Hogwarts. Ever since he'd been old enough to understand it, he wanted to attend. It was where Snape and Gareth worked, it was where his parents had gone, and it had always been this distant beacon of escape from the Dursleys. When he left Little Whinging, he gave it up because he thought he would never have the chance, and the possibility of attending a different magical school just didn't have the same appeal as Hogwarts did. Now, however, that possibility was back and he found himself wanting it desperately, even if it meant giving up the advantage that private education offered.

He hesitated to bring it up to his parents. Gabriel made it clear how advantageous he though private education was and he even felt it was something that Tori should go with as well. Lorna was more open to the idea of schools, and as such it was her that Harry eventually went to one night in April. Normally, Gabriel was the one to go to whenever he or Tori wanted something; Lorna tended to be a little more strict with them, whereas Gabriel was extremely indulgent and the mere mention of wanting something was enough to get it. But he made up for it by being more over-protective and babying them, so in this case Harry felt that Lorna might be more open to his wants.

He went to her in her workshop, at first just watching her work, skilfully twisting silver, gold, and platinum into shape, carefully setting beautifully cut precious gems, giving each piece of jewellery from the simplest silver bracelet to the most exquisite diamond ring her greatest care and attention. Currently she was making flower brooches, pendants, and rings of various gems and metals for the upcoming Floralia celebrations.

Flora was a goddess of flowers, so for Harry and Tori, this was a simplified, minor holiday where their parents had them plant some seeds that they would tend and grow through the summer. It encouraged them to start getting out more now the weather was moving into summer, to teach them the importance of care and tending even little things, and to view beauty in simple things.

Flora was also a fertility goddess, and while the vampires couldn't procreate they saw no reason not to engage in the licentious festivities that had been prominent in ancient Rome, but it was kept to the east wing. The Valentines were by no means prudes and had always been open about the facts of life when Harry and Tori asked, but Gabriel and Lorna weren't about to let the children view the entertainments the vampires enjoyed. They'd overheard stories, however, and knew that the jewellery Lorna was currently making would be worn by the vampires to indicate if they were willing to join in the sexual festivities, and to what degree.

After watching her a while, Harry took a slightly shaky breath, realising he should get on with mentioning what he came down to talk about, and said, "Hey, Lorna, can I talk to you about something?"

She finished polishing a rose gold ring and set it aside with the rest then folded her arms on the worktop, giving all her attention to Harry. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

"No. Not really. I was just... I was thinking about September."

"What about it?"

"Well... about school."

"What about school?"

He dropped his gaze to the worktop and idly ran a finger over a grove in the wood. "What if I didn't want to get home-schooled? What if I wanted to go to a proper school, like Tori?"

"Then I would ask you which one."

He looked up, surprised at how easily she responded. She reached over to put a hand on his. "It's your education, Harry. Your father and I will certainly want a say in it, and we'll advise you as to what we think is best, but we're not going to decide for you. Gabriel might be a little stubborn and harder to convince, but he knows that your wants in the matter are important, and we've both always known that sending you to school when you reached this age could be better than home-schooling you. You're reaching an age where you need a bit more independence and more time with your peers than just the activities you have now, so if you want to go to a school, that's perfectly fine."

He grinned, relieved that she was so accepting of it, but it faded quickly when he thought of mentioning it to Gabriel. Lorna guessed what he was thinking and offered, "Do you want me to talk to Gabriel about it?"

Harry was tempted, but he shook his head. He was just a few months shy of his eleventh birthday and he was asking to go to a boarding school where he'd have a lot more independence than he did now; if he couldn't even pluck up the courage to talk to Gabriel about it himself then he could hardly expect Gabriel to consider him grown up enough to go off to school.

Bolstered by Lorna's support and unwilling to let his nerve fail him, he went to find Gabriel immediately. He was out in his rose garden, an area of the grounds that surprised Harry when he first learnt about it. Not so much its existence, but the fact that Gabriel was the one who tended to it. He expected a human gardener to be in charge of all the grounds maintenance, but it was a nest vampire who cared for most of it and the rose garden was Gabriel's personal project. They were his favourite flower and he had cultivated an impressive array of them, ranging from simple whites and reds to magically created azure blues and purples so dark they were almost black.

He was trimming a bush of pinks when Harry found him and merely hummed a noise of agreement when Harry asked to speak with him, not pausing in his actions until Harry said exactly what he wanted. He was on his knees and he sat back on his heels then, frowning and resting the trimming scissors on his thighs, looking up at Harry.

"You want to go to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded, nervously biting at his lip.

"Have you mentioned this to your mother?"

Another nod.

"And?"

"And she said that if that's what I want, then it's okay."

"Hm." He looked back to the roses, still frowning slightly. "I thought we decided you would be privately educated. Hogwarts cannot tailor itself to your needs."

"I know, but I don't think it'll be that bad. I want to go to a school, like Tori, and I always wanted to go to Hogwarts. My other parents went there, and Severus and Gareth. If we write to Professor Dumbledore, they might be able to do something about making sure I'm not stuck doing stuff I already know, and we can get Gareth to help convince him. I know you think it'd be better for me to have a private education, but I really want to go, Gabriel."

Gabriel looked back at him, taking in his hopefully pleading expression, and tsked.

"I'll discuss it with Lorna," he said, and Harry grinned. "But I want you to think about it, Harry. Your education is important; I won't have you making brash decisions based on a whim and a bit of jealousy over your sister."

"I won't," Harry promised. "I have thought about it a lot but I'll think more. Thank you!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

They were on their annual summer trip (Italy this year) when Tori's acceptance letter from Beauxbatons arrived. Unlike Hogwarts, they didn't accept students who hadn't enrolled themselves and Harry's decision to attend school came too late after their application date, so he didn't get one. Three weeks later, just a few days after they returned to England, they both received Hogwarts letters. Harry spent a long time just staring at his when it arrived; although he'd been officially adopted for over six months now, it wasn't often he needed to use his surname in places so he still found it a little strange, and up-lifting, to see _Mr. H. Potter-Valentine_ written on the front of the envelope.

Harry sent his response agreeing to attend immediately, but Tori didn't. She couldn't decide where she wanted to go—she'd always had an interest in Beauxbatons, hearing stories about it from Jennifer, but Hogwarts was closer to home and it meant she would be at the same place as Harry. She only had a week left to reply to them both and not until the very last possible day did she eventually settle on Hogwarts.

It was Harry's birthday by then. Like Tori, he got another dose of vampire blood along with all his other presents, this time from Lorna, and hoped it didn't make his sensitivity to light any worse. The potions that the healer prescribed almost a year ago had done nothing to help and he stopped taking them after a couple of months, preferring just to rely on sunglasses or a Shades Spell when he went out. He liked wearing sunglasses most of the time because he had a really cool pair of sporty frames with reflective lenses, but his parents pointed out that wearing them so often at Hogwarts, where he'd have to spend a lot more time in daylight, might draw unwanted questions, so he would have to use the Shades Spell more often there.

He had a party that year, but it was a sleepover party that didn't start until evening so that afternoon Jennifer took him and Tori down to London to buy their school things, suggesting they get it done earlier so they didn't have to battle the back-to-school crowds later in August. Diagon Alley was nothing new to them, but Harry was a little excited nonetheless—until Lorna stopped him before they could leave and told him to remove the Concealing Charm covering his scars.

"Why?" he demanded. "I always go out with it on."

"Yes, because you needed to prevent anyone from recognising you. That is no longer necessary, and when you get to Hogwarts you won't be able to wear it there. It will be impossible for the other students to never notice, Harry, unless you hid them all the time and you know what we've said about you hiding them from yourself. You have to get used to not hiding them in public," she finished, sounding faintly apologetic but firm enough that he knew she wouldn't change her mind.

It was the first time he'd gone out in public with the scars visible since leaving the Dursleys and he felt almost naked doing it. They drove down to London and Harry left the limo and entered the Leaky Cauldron with hunched shoulders and a scowl.

«Whoa, look at him,» Tori whispered in French as they headed through the pub, eyes on a huge man sitting at the bar with a beer mug the size of Tori's head.

«Don't be rude, Tori,» Jennifer scolded, but the man had already heard them. Harry didn't know if he understood French or if he just looked around at that particular moment, but when he saw them he smiled politely and then his eyes went wide.

"Harry? Harry Potter?"

The whole pub went silent. Before Harry could deny it and pretend to be someone else or run out the back door, the man was on his feet and in two great footsteps crossed the room to stand before them, everyone else close behind, crowding around and trying to peer at Harry. The man reached out a hand—and Jennifer's wand came up, pointed straight at the giant's big bushy beard as she stood firmly between him and Harry and Tori.

"Please step back, sir," she said politely but firmly. The man blinked at her.

"It's Harry."

"I am well aware who he is; I'm his governess. That does not give you the right to go around touching him. We don't know who _you_ are."

The man looked like he wanted to slap himself. "Blimey, o' course yeh don't!" He finally took a step back, but thrust out his giant hand. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He beamed, dark eyes twinkling, and then looked shocked when Jennifer didn't shake his hand. Harry didn't blame her; Hagrid could probably crush it to the bone.

"Pleasure," she said simply. "If you'll excuse us, we have things to do."

"What? But wait a minute, I just wanna say hello. Last time I saw Harry he was still a baby."

Harry hoped seeing was all he'd done. Hagrid's hands were a big as a baby and Harry had a feeling he was the kind of man who forgot his own strength.

"Yeh look a bit like yer dad, Harry," he went on, looking over Jennifer's shoulder at Harry and smiling again, "but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

"I know. Um, thank you," he added, unsure what else to say. "We really have to go."

This comment prompted everyone else in the pub to surge around Hagrid and past Jennifer to grab Harry's hand and shake it vigorously.

"Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand—I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr Potter, just can't tell you. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

A man in a purple turban came forwards and Hagrid, who was grinning at all the attention Harry was getting, grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and jerked him to the forefront of the crowd.

"Professor Quirrell!" he cried and said to Harry, as if they were close companions, "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"I NEED TO GO!"

Silence. Harry took a shaky step backwards, glowering at everyone, then turned on his heel and stalked out the pub's back door. Tori hurried after him.

"Sensitive little fellow," muttered Dedalus Diggle.

"You ambushed him," Jennifer snapped, fixing each one of them with a glare until they flushed or glanced away. "He's just a boy come to do his school shopping and you all mob him like a bunch of heathens. It's disgraceful."

"But he's the Boy Who Lived!" cried Doris Crockford.

"That doesn't give you the right! He is a child first and I'm certain you wouldn't act like this towards any other child who walked into the pub. Go back to your drinks and let us get on with our day."

They did so grumbling and Jennifer stalked away, finding Harry and Tori waiting in the small courtyard behind the pub. She checked Harry was alright then tapped her wand to the bricks to open up the passageway into the alley. It was better there, people more interested in their shopping than in three newcomers. Jennifer already had funds from the Valentines—they didn't trust goblins, and goblins didn't trust vampires, so they didn't store any of their money in Gringotts—so they steadily made their way through each of the shops in the alley.

Tori was particularly eager to get a wand; their parents had always refused, Lorna saying she had quite enough to learn and Gabriel pointing out that the Ministry tracked underage magic. When Tori rightfully pointed out that they never found Harry doing it, Harry had lied and said his wand had been enchanted by Snape to be undetectable and that he didn't know how to do it. It was one of very few lies he told, and almost all of them were connected to his skill in magic and how he'd come to get it. He could never quite bring himself to admit that he'd made a deal with a demon, even after growing close to them.

Jennifer agreed they could get the wand first, but rather than go to Ollivander's they headed into Knockturn Alley to a shop named Hoburn's. Harry and Tori exchanged a surprised glance but followed without question. Vampires could move through the area with less harassment than in Diagon Alley so they had been there before, though never alone. Gabriel and Lorna wanted them comfortable with the darker side of wizarding society, but they weren't stupid enough to leave children alone in a place with predators as dangerous as themselves and less moral about the treatment of youngsters.

"Why aren't we going to Ollivanders?" Tori asked. "Isn't he the best?"

"So they say," Jennifer replied with a tone that made it clear she wasn't included in 'they', "but that doesn't mean he's always the most suitable. He only uses three cores and with your family I think you would benefit from a bigger selection of less commonly used cores."

Like most stores in Knockturn Alley, Hoburn's shop appeared small and dark, but once inside it was surprisingly light and clearly enchanted to be bigger on the inside that it was outside. It was the only way to explain the extraordinarily long shelves stretching away into the far back of the shop. There was a small counter to the side, behind which sat a big, broad witch in artfully ripped robes, blue hair gelled up in spikes and combat-booted feet resting on the counter as she read a small book with no title.

She glanced over when they entered and took her feet off the counter, thumping them down heavily on the wood floor.

"First timers?" she said, setting the book aside and peering down at Harry and Tori, who nodded. "Alrighty. What's your name, kids?"

"Tori."

"Harry, but I don't need a wand."

The woman's attention fixed on Tori. "You, then. Favourite colour?"

Surprised, Tori glanced at Jennifer but she just gestured for her to answer. "Purple."

"Favourite number?"

"Uh… eight?"

"Animal?"

"Tigers."

"How do you feel about werewolves?"

"They're monsters."

"Vampires?"

"They're okay."

"Centaurs?"

"Weird."

"Dugbogs?"

Tori had to think a moment then, trying to remember what a dugbog was. "Is that the one that lives in swamps?"

"Yup."

"I dunno. Bit disgusting, living in a swamp, I guess."

"How do you feel about putting tadpoles in people's soup?"

"Well, as long as it's not _my_ soup," she said with a grin.

"Can you touch the tip of your nose with your tongue, rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time, cross your eyes, or any combination thereof?"

"I can touch my nose and cross my eyes."

"Show me."

Tori did so and the witch grinned. "Excellent. Alright, come along. Let's try out a few wands."

Harry and Jennifer waited by the counter while the witch took Tori further into the shop. They didn't take long, returning less than five minutes later with a wand of alder wood with a fwooper feather core. She bought a hip holster for it, which prompted Harry to get one too, and then they returned to Diagon Alley for the rest of their things. The trip passed by without note, except for Rubeus Hagrid waving cheerfully as if they were old friends as he came out of Gringotts just as Harry, Tori, and Jennifer were heading back to the Leaky Cauldron, and they were soon back home with two trunk-loads of new belongings.

August passed quickly, but not easily. Harry and Tori had to alter their sleeping schedule so they'd be prepared before they reached Hogwarts and found themselves having to get up at seven o'clock in the morning, and neither of them were happy about it. Harry also noticed his hearing improving, but that was the only change from the vampire blood this time. It was helpful in dealing with Samantha, however, who was soft spoken. He spent a little time every day teaching her to speak and she picked up individual words well enough, but didn't do so well with proper sentences. She also tended to lose interest quickly if the words she learnt weren't related to food, sleep, or comfort.

About a week into August, Gareth wrote offering to take Harry to Snape's grave on the anniversary of his death. Harry went, but he didn't stay long and he didn't sit and talk to it like he did at Lily and James'. He didn't have the same sense of connection to Snape's grave, and so when he got home he did what he'd always done on the anniversary of Snape's death—he brewed a potion, with Gabriel's help, and placed it under the drawing of Snape that Gareth had given him years ago and which now hung framed on his bedroom wall. The potion he made was called Strawberry Night, one that Snape himself had invented, and was the last one Snape had ever brewed with him. It was a sleeping potion that gave the drinker pleasant dreams and at the end of the day Harry would hold it up to the picture in a toast to the man before drinking it.

Gabriel wrote to Professor Dumbledore about Harry's advanced education. Only after it was sent did Harry worry about exactly what Gabriel wrote; he wasn't sure how much Dumbledore, as Snape's employer, knew about what Snape taught him in the summers, but he suspected Dumbledore would probably realise the story about a tutor teaching him how to cast spells was a lie.

Fortunately, whatever Gabriel did say, Dumbledore replied only that Harry would be tested on each of his subjects when he reached Hogwarts and any changes in lessons would then be based on his results. Gabriel wasn't impressed, wanting Harry immediately placed into higher level classes, but Harry didn't mind. He was just pleased that Dumbledore had responded to the second part of Gabriel's letter saying that an exception would be made allowing him to take Samantha as a pet even though she wasn't an owl, cat, or toad, as long as he brought along a terrarium to store her in.

Dumbledore also said they could continue their violin lessons while attending Hogwarts; a number of students had music tutors come into the castle and their violin teacher was already familiar with it, teaching several other Hogwarts students. Tori was the only one continuing with that, though; Harry, still not a great fan of the instrument, asked to quit and his parents agreed—after much begging and pleading.

Ada drove them down to London on the thirtieth of August to spend the next couple of days in the town house. Harry and Tori were up early on September the first, neither of them particularly well-slept; they'd been too excited and nervous to sleep the night before, and still struggled a little with their rearranged sleep schedule. They ate breakfast, checked their trunks one last time to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, then gave their parents hugs goodbye and climbed into the Chrysler they used for getting around London easier than the limo.

"What are you going to do while we're at school?" Tori asked Jennifer during the journey.

Jennifer smiled. "I'm going to sit back with a book and a martini and say to myself, 'How nice it is not to have a pair of noisy children getting underfoot!'"

"Jennifer!"

"I'm not really sure what I'm going to do," she admitted, laughing. "It's going to be very strange to have so much free time to myself."

"Will you miss us?"

"I'll miss you a lot," Jennifer said honestly. "I suspect I'll find it _too_ quiet without you, if I'm honest."

"Are you going to move out of Lynott Manor?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, certainly not. I'll still be your governess for the holidays, and if there's ever an emergency at the school I'll probably have to come up instead of your parents. Don't worry, you're not getting rid of me that easily just yet. Besides, Lynott Manor is as much my home as it is yours."

"Good," they both said, but then Tori added, "Don't you think we're a bit old for a governess now? I think you should be something else."

"Like what?"

"A day guardian. That's what you should be now."

Jennifer liked it. "We'll have to mention it to Gabriel and Lorna at Saturnalia."

They reached Kings Cross in good time, found a compartment to stow their trunks in, said their goodbyes to Jennifer, and fifteen minutes later the Hogwarts Express was pulling out of the station. Harry had Samantha secure inside a travel cage, but as the train set off he lifted the top to look in and check on her, and she flicked her tongue out curiously. " _Magic train?_ " she hissed. She'd gathered enough from Harry to understand that they would be moving away from home today, but Harry didn't think she quite understood what a train was exactly. He'd shown her a picture when he taught her the word, but she didn't tend to translate pictures into reality very well.

" _Yes,_ " he answered. " _We on the way to Hogwarts._ "

Someone gasped, a toad croaked, and Harry looked up to see a chubby boy staring at him wide-eyed. He held a toad, but at its owner loss of attention it squirmed from the hands holding it, plopped to the floor, and hopped away.

"Trevor!"

The boy lunged after the toad, falling to his knees and scrambling along the corridor to try and catch it. Tori was smiling and Harry couldn't help grinning either, but he tried to hide it as he stood and leant out, watching the boy chase after the toad. Feeling a little responsible for the escape, he drew his wand from its holster and flicked it at the toad, silently commanding, ' _Immobilus!_ '

The toad froze, enabling the boy to scoop it up and cradle it closely, and Harry cancelled the spell.

"Slippery things, aren't they?"

The boy turned, nodding. "He's always getting away from me."

"Why don't you buy him a cage?"

The boy looked miserable. "My great-uncle said a proper wizard doesn't need a cage for their pet."

"Your great-uncle doesn't know very much about animals then, does he? If an animal can't stay with its owner, it should be in a cage. Come on in here. We'll shut the door and at least if he gets away from you again, he can't get far."

"But… that snake…"

"Oh, don't worry about Samantha. She doesn't eat toads."

Still looking a bit reluctant, the boy nevertheless sidled into the compartment after Harry and sat down. Harry shut the door and sat opposite him, next to Tori.

"I'm Harry, by the way. This is my sister, Tori. What's your name?"

"Neville Longbottom," the boy said. He glanced down at Samantha's travel cage nervously, up at Harry, down again, then asked, "S-so you're a… a Parselmouth?"

Harry nodded and opened his mouth to comment on how he hadn't had Samantha very long, and to ask how long Neville had had Trevor, but Neville looked up again at that point and this time caught sight of the oldest of Harry's scars and blurted out, "You're Harry Potter!"

He promptly turned bright red and stuttered out an apology. Harry waved it off with an awkward smile. "It's okay. I am, but it's Potter-Valentine now."

"But I thought… well isn't Parseltongue… y'know… _dark?_ " Neville whispered.

"No, not really. It just means I can talk to snakes. People just say it is because of the Dark Lord and Salazar Slytherin. But I _defeated_ the Dark Lord, so you can't really think _I'm_ a dark wizard."

"I… suppose," Neville agreed hesitantly, and when Harry smiled at him he returned it, albeit still unsurely. Harry had a feeling he did everything unsurely.

They spent the ride together, sometimes chatting, sometimes sitting in comfortable silence, and buying some sweets from the trolley when it came past. Tori let Mr Flufflefoot out of his cage and he soon made friends with Trevor the toad. A red-headed boy came looking for somewhere to sit, but reeled back when he saw Samantha. He made a snide comment about snakes not being allowed at Hogwarts, to which Harry pointed out the fat grey rat half hanging from his pocket, and the boy blushed as red as his hair and went away again.

About an hour before they arrived, something crashed against the door of their compartment and when Harry slid it open he had to hurriedly get out the way as a blond boy backed in, hands raised defensively in front of him while an Indian girl had one fist clenched in his robes and the other raised over her head.

"Say that again, you pasty-faced little weasel!"

"Get off me!"

"Then take it back or say it again!"

The boy hesitated, then sneered and said, "Mudblood."

The girl punched him. He stagged back, tripped over Mr Flufflefoot's cage, and landed on his backside. Neville stared in shock at the girl, but Harry and Tori looked down unkindly on the boy, who was bleeding from the nose. He looked up at them, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and wiped at his nose.

"What?" he snapped. "Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare?"

"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to call people names?" Tori retorted. "Hang on, aren't you that Malfoy kid?"

She said his name in the same tone he'd said Mudblood. He scrambled to his feet, glaring at her.

"I don't even know who you are, which means you're not important and you have no right saying anything about my family."

"I know all I need to know about your family. You're a bunch of baby-killing scumbags."

Malfoy went from pink to white quicker than a snitch tied to a jet engine, and stormed out of the compartment without another word to any of them, shoving past the Indian girl and slamming the door behind him. The girl, smirking triumphantly, sat down next to Neville. She caught Harry's eye, they stared at each other for a moment, then:

"Harry!"

"Anita!"

"You know her?" Tori asked, looking between them. Harry nodded.

"We were at the same primary school when I lived with my aunt and uncle."

"It was a rotten school," Anita added. "I'm glad I left."

"You left? Why? Because of your dad? I heard he died. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I'm not. And yeah, it was. Me and Mum moved to London to live with her sister and I went to a school there. I heard about your uncle. He died the same night as my dad, didn't he?"

She looked like she wanted to say more, maybe ask him details about how it happened, but was resisting.

"Yeah. It was no big loss."

"That's not very nice," Neville said. "He was your uncle."

"He was a jerk who hated me," Harry told him plainly. "He got what he deserved."

Neville was shocked. "B-but he's your family!"

"No, Tori and my parents and my governess are my family. My aunt and uncle were just… they were nothing."

"Parents?" Anita repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I was adopted. This is Tori, she's my sister. Tori, this is Anita."

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries while Neville was still trying to process Harry's callous disregard of his aunt and uncle. He excused himself when Harry and the girls got to talking about Hogwarts and didn't come back before they reached Hogsmeade Station. There, Hagrid led them down to the edge of a lake where they took some boats across the water to the castle proper. Inside they were greeted by Professor McGonagall, an imposing witch Harry vaguely recalled meeting in the few weeks he spent at Hogwarts after the werewolf attack, and then led into the Great Hall where the rest of the students were already seated. When the first years were lined up at the front of the hall, Harry looked over the staff table and caught Gareth's gaze, smiling in greeting and getting a salute in return.

The Sorting Hat sung its song and then McGonagall started reading out their names. Some people took a second to sort but others sat under the hat for a long time. Anita was under it for almost a full minute before it put her in Gryffindor. When Malfoy's name was called—Draco Malfoy, Harry learnt—there was a murmur of voices across the hall and the boy cringed slightly before straightening his shoulders and walking up to the stool. When he sat, he kept his gaze fixed above everyone's heads until the hat fell over his eyes, and was sorted into Slytherin after a few moments.

Then, a few names later:

"Potter-Valentine, Harry!"

Louder and more curious whispers darted about the hall at that and he walked up to the stool without looking at anyone. Even without the enhanced hearing provided by the vampire blood he'd have heard the mutters of "Did she say Harry Potter?" and "Potter-Valentine? Is it not the Boy Who Lived then?" and "What happened to his face?"

When McGonagall put the hat on him, it slid down over his eyes, hiding the rest of the hall from him, and a quiet voice said in his ear, "Hmm. Interesting. I haven't met a child who sold their soul to a demon before today and now I've met two, and I don't often sit on the heads of people with vampire blood in their veins."

Harry stiffened.

"Oh, not to fear. Your secrets are my secrets. No one likes a hat that gossips, so you can stop thinking about setting me on fire, thank you very much. Let me have a look… determined, loyal to those who earn it, intelligent too. I think you'll do very well in SLYTHERIN!"

Amidst the applause, just before McGonagall pulled the hat up, he heard the hat murmur, "You might want to look into the details of your demon deal…"

He suppressed a frown at that and hopped off the stool, moving over to Slytherin table to join his new housemates, accepting their greetings and congratulations with nods and thin smiles. No one asked yet about his name or scars, but he knew they'd be coming and he saw their eyes fixating on the lightning bolt on his forehead.

There were six people left to sort now; Zacharias Smith went to Hufflepuff, Dean Thomas to Gryffindor, Lisa Turpin to Ravenclaw, and then it was Tori's turn. She glanced over to Harry before the hat was placed on her and he gave her an encouraging smile, and not long after she was sorted into Ravenclaw. Ron Weasley was sorted in Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini, the last one, went to Slytherin.

Dumbledore gave a few words and then the tables were laden with food and the hall filled with chatter as people helped themselves to dinner. Harry wasn't the least bit surprised that the first discussions at the Slytherin table focused on him and he dutifully explained his name, his scars, and his relationship with Tori. She sat at a spot on the Ravenclaw table that put her directly behind him, so he was able to simply point over his shoulder at her and it inevitably drew the attention of the nearby Ravenclaws too. It was fine until he happened to mention Gabriel's name and a Ravenclaw prefect choked on his beef.

" _Lord_ Gabriel Valentine?" he said when he'd cleared the meat from his throat, twisted around to look between Harry and Tori. "The… the vampire?"

They nodded and were promptly bombarded with questions about life with vampires. The meal was half-over by the time people turned their attention to other topics, and even then someone would occasionally turn back to Harry with another question.

Draco Malfoy wasn't one of the ones to pester him. Whether still embarrassed by the incident on the train or because he realised that Harry and Tori didn't like him already, he stayed out of all conversations regarding them. He did look as if he wanted to say something several times, and his lip curled with dislike at every mention of vampires. Harry wondered if he knew about his ancestors treatment of Lorna, but he didn't care enough to ask and interact with the boy.

The meal finished and Dumbledore rose again. He introduced Professor Quirrell as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, gave notice as to the Forbidden Forest being—no surprise—forbidden, reminded them that magic wasn't permitted in the corridors, and announced that the third floor corridor was out of bounds to everyone who didn't wish to die painfully.

"Is he serious?" Harry heard Tori ask while a few students across the hall laughed. "Was that a joke?"

Harry sincerely hoped so.

They had to sing the school song then. Harry mumbled it, having never been very good at singing, and shuffled impatiently as he waited for the last two singers, a pair of Gryffindors, to finish up. He was thoroughly exhausted, still not quite used to being awake all day despite his parents' best efforts to alter his sleeping schedule.

Dumbledore dismissed them and Harry said goodbye to Tori then followed Lisa Patterson, a fifth year prefect, down to Slytherin, a large dungeon room with tall windows set into one wall that looked directly into the lake they'd crossed over earlier. Harry was glad to find it gently lit and having nowhere through which sunlight could come; he wouldn't have to worry about his sensitivity to light here. At the far end of the common room were two doors that Lisa led them too, turning to face them and gesturing to each.

"Girls on my left, boys on my right. Curfew is at nine but you only have to be back in the common room by then—when you actually go to bed is your choice, but it's also your responsibility to get up on time in the morning. You'll get your class timetables at breakfast tomorrow so don't miss it. It's served from seven o'clock; first class is at half-eight. Welcome to Slytherin."

Beyond the door was a short corridor lined with seven more doors set in the wall opposite, each one bearing a label with a year name on it, and one directly adjacent to the entrance, which was the bathroom. They found the first year dorm second from the bottom. Inside were six beds, with their trunks set to one side. There was some squabbling between Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott over who got the bed furthest from the door, but soon enough they'd each picked one and dragged their trunks over.

Harry enlarged Samantha's terrarium, set it up by his bed, and transferred her to it. It made the others curious and he had to assure them he had permission to keep her and that she wasn't venomous. That done, he retrieved his pyjamas, set out his uniform for the next day, went to the bathroom to clean up, and then changed and crawled into bed, falling straight to sleep.

* * *

It was only when he walked into breakfast the next morning that Harry realised the enchantment on the ceiling of the Great Hall, to make it look like the sky outside, was loathsome in all its beauty. He'd known about it of course, and even appreciated it the night before when it meant they were eating under a clear night sky of sparkling stars, but at half past seven in the morning it meant sitting under glaring sunlight which didn't make being up at such an ungodly hour any better.

He didn't want to draw attention by putting on the Shades Spell at breakfast and thankfully his house mates took his grumpy attitude as merely a morning thing, which wasn't entirely untrue, but the moment they left breakfast he slipped off to a bathroom to put the spell on. It made things a little dark in the corridors, but after years of nocturnal living he preferred the dim light anyway, and it was definitely necessary for their first ever class—double Herbology.

They shared it with the Ravenclaws and Harry found Tori as they waited outside the greenhouses before class started. Her greeting smile was a bit strained and she introduced him curtly to Lisa Turpin before dragging him away from everyone to quietly ask him to put the Shades Spell on her too. She didn't have the same sensitivity to light that he did, but it was still bright enough to be annoying, especially when they'd be standing under it for a double period.

"Is there one for ears, too?" she asked a little grumblingly after he put it on. "It's so _noisy_ here."

Harry had noticed that, too. Their hearing might not have been to vampire standards, and he knew his own wasn't as good as Tori's, but Lynott House was never loud except at Saturnalia. With such advanced hearing, vampires simply didn't need to be as loud as humans to be heard; it made the simple everyday noise of five hundred children sound like a riot to Harry and Tori.

At Tori's question, a couple of possible spells instantly came to mind, but none he could do without drawing attention from their classmates. The Shades Spell just meant a wave of his wand in front of the face, but the simplest and most ideal sound dulling spell required sticking the tip into the ear and there was no way he could do that there without everyone noticing. That besides, he didn't have time because Professor Sprout arrived then and ushered them all into Greenhouse One.

Sprout gave them a safety lesson before they began, vigorously warning them against going alone into many of the greenhouses, some of which housed plants that were dangerous or even lethal when not handled properly. When they actually got started, they learned how to look after a harmless little fungi often used in beauty potions.

They had break next and Harry spent the time with Tori, showing her a letter he'd received at breakfast that morning. It was from Gareth—who Harry kept having to remind himself to call 'Professor Martin' now—saying that Harry was to come to his office after classes to talk about testing his skill level. Tori sulked when she saw it.

"Why is it just you?" she grumbled. "I was being tutored in magical theory too."

"Yeah, but you can't do lots of spells like me."

"I could have, if Mum and Dad had let me get a wand and have lessons. I'd have been as good as you."

Harry said nothing. He didn't doubt Tori's intelligence—she'd always done well with their lessons and getting into Ravenclaw was further proof—but it would take a lifetime of study, or a demon deal, to know as many spells as well as he did.

He remembered then what the Sorting Hat said about his demon deal and wondered what it meant. He considered dismissing it; after all, what did a hat, even a magical one, know about demon deals? But it had sat on Anita's head before Harry's, and a large number of heads before that, so there was a chance it knew quite a lot about demon deals. He decided not to worry too much about it, but would check out the library when he had a chance and see if he could find some books about it.

After break the Slytherins had History of Magic, which was shockingly boring. Harry was used to trips to museums and exciting stories from his parents; Professor Binns' monotonous lecture made a subject that, while not Harry's favourite, had been somewhat interesting into something painfully boring. He also got it wrong, but Harry kept his mouth shut when Binns said Uric the Oddball's eccentricities had no known cause, knowing that it was primarily the result of a vampire seduction done by Edward, the Valentines' butler.

They had lunch afterwards and then Transfiguration was the last class of the day. After introducing herself, taking the register, and lecturing them on the dangers of Transfiguration and misbehaving in class, McGonagall turned her desk into a pig and back and then set them to transfiguring matchsticks into needles. Harry did it perfectly on his first try—his very first, because he'd never been in a situation where he needed to Transfigure matchsticks into needles—which earned him ten house points from a surprised McGonagall, and another ten when he perfectly transfigured it back. While the rest of the class continued to practice, she set him some written work to do instead, which covered a number of theoretical things that he'd studied at home, and was the homework she set the rest of the class.

At the end of the lesson, he walked down to the dungeons with the rest of his class, but broke away when they passed a door labelled 'Professor G. Martin'. He knocked and got no answer, so waited outside for ten minutes until Gareth appeared, carrying an armload of scrolls.

"Oh, good, you're already here," he greeted. "Let yourself in, it's open."

Harry did but stepped aside to let Gareth enter first. He lit the fireplace and dumped the scrolls on his desk, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. Harry took one of the chairs before the desk, looking around. Aside from the desk, Gareth's chair, and two more facing it, there was a cupboard in one corner, a filing cabinet in another, and some shelves on the wall with brightly coloured potions that reflected the firelight to create a mosaic of lights on the ceiling. There was a mug on the desk and Harry was embarrassed to realise it was the same one he'd given Gareth as a present all those years ago, childishly painted with the man's name scrawled in uneven letters.

Gareth dropped into his own chair with a sigh, but gave Harry a warm smile. "So. How you doing? Settling in alright?"

"Yeah. The dorm is a bit weird, sharing a room with other people, but otherwise it's okay. Why do you still have that?"

Gareth glanced at the mug. "I drink coffee from it."

"It's old. And it's stupid. I was six when I painted that, it's awful."

"Well mug's don't have expiry dates so it doesn't matter that it's old, and I like it. If it makes you feel better, I won't tell anyone that you made it. How are your house mates?"

"They're okay," he said simply. Gareth was an old friend, but Harry was all too aware that in this instance he was acting as an authority figure and so he wasn't sure if it was alright to mention that he didn't really like half his roommates. Theodore Nott seemed alright, if a bit withdrawn, and so did Blaise Zabini, but he disliked Draco, both because of his family history with Lorna and because of his use of the word Mudblood on the train, and Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle hadn't made much of an impression on him either, mostly following Draco around. He hadn't interacted much with the girls yet, so didn't have any opinion on them.

"How's your first day been?"

Harry shrugged. "Alright. Herbology was good, but History of Magic and Transfiguration were boring."

"One too dull and the other too easy?"

Harry nodded.

"Thought so," he said, looking through the mess on his desk for something and eventually pulling out a sheaf of parchment. "Alright, so Lord Valentine wrote to Dumbledore saying you're pretty well advanced in practical and theoretical magic, is that right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well, the teachers have agreed to assess you and figure out your skill level so we can decide if you need moving up. The first couple of weeks can be a bit hectic settling in, so we'll do practical tests next weekend, on the fourteenth, and for now you'll just have to put up with standard lessons, but we've each assigned you an essay or worksheet to do so we can get an idea of your theoretical knowledge, alright?"

Harry nodded, taking the parchment from him. In truth, he was still a little unsure about it all. He wondered if the teachers would say there was no point in him attending Hogwarts when he knew every spell they could teach him. He would understand their point, and he couldn't argue that a focused home-schooling might be more suited to his needs, but he wanted the experience of going to school so he didn't want them sending him home. It might be alright if school didn't turn out to be as exciting as he'd always hoped, but he figured he'd need at least a couple of months to really get an idea of it, if not a whole year.

But he perked up looking over the essays and worksheets he'd been given. He might know all the spells and be fairly well-versed in general magical theory, but he didn't think he'd be that far ahead in History, even with a pair of vampires for parents, and he knew he couldn't be at all ahead in Herbology and Potions, and he was probably even behind in Astronomy. Gabriel and Lorna tried to teach him the constellations, but Harry had never been very good at finding them. To him, connecting the stars was like a giant, incredibly complex dot-to-dot with all the numbers missing. So they might advance him in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but all the other subjects were just as new to him as to any other first year.

Gareth told him he had to do everything within the next two weeks, and that it didn't exempt him from any other homework he'd get, then dismissed him. It was almost dinner by then but he had enough time to return to Slytherin to drop off his bag and papers, and to check on Samantha, making sure she was alright after the stress of moving. She seemed happy enough and the terrarium was the same one from home so she didn't have to acclimatise to somewhere completely new.

He walked up to the Great Hall with Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, getting to know them a little as they ate. Neither of them were very keen to talk about their families, but said enough for Harry to learn Blaise was an only child living with his mother and her seventh husband, whilst Theo now lived alone with his parents since his older sister left home a couple of years ago. He was extremely dismissive of both his parents and quick to change the subject. Harry didn't push to know more; he got the impression Theo felt much the same way about his parents that Harry did about his aunt and uncle.

In the common room that evening, while he was relaxing by the fire working on a letter home, the first year girls came up to him and Tracey Davis asked, "Is it true you have a snake?"

"Yes."

"Can we see?"

"Alright, when I'm done with my letter."

It didn't take him long and then he fetched Samantha from her terrarium and brought her through to the common room. It drew interested looks from many of the other students so that when he sat down with the first year girls there was quite a crowd huddling around to see. Daphne Greengrass drew back slightly, but Tracey leaned closer, grinning.

"He—is it a he? sorry—she's so pretty!"

"Thanks. Her name's Samantha."

"She's not poisonous, is she?" Daphne asked, unable to keep all the nerves from her voice.

"Snakes aren't poisonous, they're venomous," Harry answered. "And no, she isn't. She's a king snake."

"She's not very big," Millicent Bulstrode commented as Samantha coiled around Harry's wrist.

"She's only a couple of months old. She'll get bigger."

"Why don't you have a cat or owl like a normal person?" Pansy Parkinson asked.

"I can't talk to cats and owls."

There was a pause as they considered that and then one of the other students in the crowd, a third year, asked, "Do you mean… are you a—a Parselmouth?"

He nodded. Several people looked wary, but others just looked impressed or even faintly envious.

"Show us," Millicent said.

" _Do you mind all these people staring down at you like this?_ " Harry asked Samantha. He wasn't sure she really understood it—sentences longer than a few words were still beyond her grasp—but she seemed to enjoy the attention, and reacted to his voice with a general, wordless hiss of pleasure. A few people gasped at hearing him speak.

Pansy shivered. "That sounds creepier than I thought it would."

"I think it sounds really nice," Tracey said.

"It's proper," Millicent remarked. "There hasn't been a Parselmouth in Slytherin since You Know Who."

"I'm not like him," Harry felt the need to say, tone defensive despite his efforts to keep it neutral.

Tracey snorted. "Well obviously. You destroyed him."

There was a slightly awkward pause then. Harry wondered how many of them had parents or other family members who were Death Eaters.

A fourth year cleared their throat. "Aren't you worried the teachers will confiscate her?"

"No, they know about her already and I'm allowed to keep her."

Their curiosity satisfied, most people moved away, including Daphne and Pansy, but Millicent and Tracey settled in chairs nearby to chat with him more. Millicent held out her hand for Samantha to flick her tongue at and then, when Harry said it was alright, stroked her head and let Samantha crawl over her hands. He watched a little worriedly, but Millicent, despite her intimidating size, was exceptionally gentle and Samantha hissed contentedly the entire time.

* * *

The week went on. Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons turned out to be something of a joke; Quirrell spoke with a heavy stutter which made his already not very interesting classes even harder to take seriously. He didn't seem inclined to teach them any defensive magic at all and he was constantly surrounded by the scent of garlic. Everyone said it was because he stuffed his turban with it to ward off a vampire he'd once met in Romania. Harry didn't mention to anyone that garlic only bothered vampires if they ingested it; it was a little known fact that the vampires wanted to keep little known.

Potion classes were shared with the Gryffindors and they had a double lesson on Friday afternoons. Harry had always known that Slytherin and Gryffindor had an age old rivalry, but it was only then that he really understood how strong it was. Before the lesson even started, while they were waiting outside the classroom, the Gryffindors started to pick a fight when Harry approached Anita. He hadn't had chance to speak to her since the first day, but he barely managed to get out a greeting before Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan stepped up beside her and shoved Harry away. Anita looked as shocked as Harry.

"She doesn't want a dark wizard talking to her," Ron said snidely.

"I'm not a dark wizard," Harry protested at the same moment Anita snapped, "Don't tell me what I do and don't want, Weasley."

"You're a _Parselmouth_ ," Ron said, ignoring Anita entirely. "Everyone knows only dark wizards are Parselmouths."

It was common knowledge throughout the school by now and this wasn't the first time Harry heard people utter such things about him.

"Being a Parselmouth doesn't make me evil!"

"Yeah," agreed Tracey Davis, stepping up beside Harry. "He's the Boy Who Lived, Weasley. He can't be a dark wizard."

"He can," Seamus countered, staring at Harry distrustfully. "He could be just as dark as You Know Who and destroyed him just so he doesn't have any competition."

"Finnigan, do you realise how ridiculous you sound? Are you seriously accusing him of being a dark wizard when he was a _baby_?"

Seamus shrugged. "Maybe. Either way he's a dark wizard now and he can stay away from Anita and the rest of us Gryffindors."

"Go eat rat dung, Finnigan," Anita told him. "I don't need a pair of stupid white boys telling me who I can and can't hang around with."

The door of the classroom opened then, preventing it from going further, and Gareth gestured them all inside. His appearance surprised Harry a little—he'd always seen Gareth with his long hair tied in a simple ponytail, but now he wore it in a looped ponytail so it only hung a third of the length it normally did—a safety measure to keep it more out the way, Harry realised when Gareth gave a lecture on safety, which included lending hair ties to a couple of the girls who were wearing their hair down, before setting them to work in pairs on a simple boil potion.

He moved around the classroom as they worked, advising them on how to calibrate their scales and the best way to crush snake fangs. When Neville Longbottom neglected to remove his cauldron from the flames before adding the porcupine quills, causing the cauldron to melt and seep across the classroom floor, Gareth instantly cleared away the mess and fetched a boil cure from his desk. Neville had been drenched in the potion and boils were already popping up all over his face until he gulped the potion down.

"Don't get in a state about it, Longbottom," Gareth told him after making sure he was alright enough to not need a trip to the Hospital Wing. "You forgot to take the cauldron off the fire first. You should take it—you should _all_ take it," he said, making sure the entire class was listening, "as a warning to pay careful attention to the instructions. Rule of thumb is to read through a set of instruction completely _before_ you begin brewing, to familiarise yourself and so you can take note of any particular steps. Today's accident was relatively harmless, but some potions can be far more lethal when done incorrectly."

At the end of the lesson, Anita asked Harry if he'd hang out with her a bit as the Gryffindors now had a free period, but the Slytherins still had a Charms class to go to so he said he'd speak to her after dinner. Charms, like Transfiguration, was a boringly simple class for Harry. The rest of the class were learning fire spells, a necessity for use in Potions, but Harry scribbled away at the worksheet meant to determine his skill level, having already proven to Flitwick that he could conjure a variety of fires in their first lesson earlier that week.

After dinner he met Anita outside the Great Hall and they decided to wander about the castle as they talked. They mostly caught up on each others lives in the past few years and Anita asked about the magical world. She had one particular question that she wanted clarification on and which surprised him a bit.

"What does Mudblood mean?"

"It's a bad word for Muggleborns. I thought you knew that? Isn't it why you punched Malfoy on the train?"

"I thought it was a race thing," she explained. "That brown skin meant muddy blood or something. It's not like he explained himself, but I could tell from his tone that it was an insult and that's why I hit him. Only I heard an older student say it to a white girl the other day, but I didn't want to ask any of the Gryffindors in case they thought I was stupid."

Harry hadn't even considered that the word could be taken in anyway other than an insult for Muggleborns. "You're not stupid. But I don't think wizards care much about skin colour, they only care about whether you've got magical parents or not. The stupid ones, anyway."

"They don't seem happy with religion, either. Or at least not Sikhism, but that's no surprise, but I did see one of the older students get mocked at dinner for saying grace."

"Um, I'm not sure about religion," Harry said, hesitant and aware that this could be a touchy subject. "Wizards don't have one for ourselves specifically and I think a lot of them are atheists, and I know some of the old pureblood families definitely don't like Christianity because of the witch trials, but I've never really heard much about general opinions on other religions. Sorry."

She shrugged. "It's nothing new. My aunt's home where me and Mum live now is in an area with a lot of Indians and Sikhs, and I went to school with most of them, but it's not like I'm not used to putting up with stupid white people."

"Does that include me?"

"You're not stupid, I'll give you that."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"I wonder what they'd think of me if they knew half my magic came from a demon," she mused, after glancing around to check there was no one in earshot.

"What's it like for you? Using a wand when you can do magic without it?"

She shrugged. "It seems a bit pointless, really, 'cause I can do most of the stuff without one, but I don't want to tell everyone I can in case they ask me how. It's pretty obvious that wandless magic isn't normal."

"Some people can do little bits, but yeah not really without a lot of training." He paused, considering his next question, but decided to go ahead. "Does your mum—"

" _Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…"_

He stopped abruptly, looking around in surprise. Anita paused as well. "What?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That voice. I heard a voice."

She glanced around, leaning over the banister of the staircase they were on to look below them and then peering up, then shrugged and looked back to him. "I can't see anyone. Maybe you're hearing things."

He nodded absently, but hoped not. What he'd heard was a bit too clear to be just his ears playing tricks on him, but he didn't like the thought of being a madman who had voices in his head talking about killing.

"What were you saying about my mum?" Anita asked, continuing up the stairs.

"What? Oh, does she know about your deal?"

Anita shook her head even before he finished asking. "She'd flip if she knew I did that. She'd think I was mad and drag me to doctors and a Guru and all kinds. Do your parents know?"

"No. I'm not really sure what vampires think of demons but I didn't want to tell them. I just told them I had a really good tutor before I met them."

Anita looked amused. "A tutor who taught you every single spell ever?"

"Just a lot," he admitted, smiling. "They don't know I know everything."

"Why are you even here? Isn't it even more pointless for you than for me?"

"I still need to learn Potions, Herbology, History, and Astronomy, and there's the advanced subjects we get to take in third year, but I wanted to come. My parents were going to home-school me so I'd have a focused curriculum, but I want go to a school."

"That's half of why I don't want them knowing about my magic too. I don't want to go to a normal school again. Magic school is way better. For example," she said, tone suddenly mischievous as they reached the end of a corridor with a locked door, "I'm pretty sure normal schools don't have forbidden corridors that the headmaster says could kill them."

Only then did Harry realise they were on the third floor.

"Do you want to have a look?" Anita asked.

"I'd rather know what's behind it first," Harry said, admittedly very curious about it. "Dumbledore did say it was a painful death."

Anita waved a dismissive hand. "He was probably just exaggerating. It's a school, they wouldn't _really_ keep anything that dangerous around, would they?"

It was a fair point, but still. He drew his wand from the holster on his hip. "I've got a better idea. I can make the door see through."

"Oh, alright," she grumbled. He raised his wand, aimed it at the door, and—

" _What do you think you're doing?!_ "

They both cringed, turning to face the irate Professor McGonagall stalking down the corridor towards them. They stood with heads bowed as she scolded them, warning that if she caught them hanging around again she'd take points, and then sent them on their way.

"Another time," Anita whispered to Harry when they split up to head back to their own houses.

Although Harry didn't think they'd taken a very complex route from the Great Hall, he still managed to take a wrong turn somewhere on the way back and ended up finding himself outside the Library. He still had some time left until curfew so he headed inside. There weren't many people there and Harry wandered through the silent stacks, familiarising himself with the layout of the place as he searched for anything about demons. He found a couple of promising looking books in the Defence Against the Dark Arts section and pulled one down, flicking through. It was only a classification tome, though, and while he did discover that the demon he'd made his deal with was classified as a crossroads demon (unimaginative but straightforward, he thought), it didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. It did reference another book he found on the same shelf, this one with more information about demonic interaction, and he sat down to read it.

Half an hour later, a prefect came along and pointed out that he only had fifteen minutes until curfew. He thanked them in a dull voice, put the book back, and walked down to Slytherin in a haze, following an older student also leaving the library. Inside he headed straight through to the dorms, lay down on his bed with the curtains drawn shut, and stared up at the canopy, his mind fixated on what he'd read.

 _Deals with demons are ill-advised and fatal. In exchange for the desired object, whether material or metaphysical, the subject is forced to forfeit their soul in a ten year contract. Precisely one decade after agreement, at the stroke of midnight, the subject is hunted down by the demon's vicious hellhounds, invisible creatures said to be visible only to their target. The victim suffers from hallucinations in the days preceding their deaths and are rumoured to be able to see the true face of demons during this time period._

 _Hellhounds are restless and unforgiving; they do not stop and they will cut through anything to reach their target. Post-mortem remains are always brutally mutilated and often unrecognisable even to the subject's closest friends and family. To date, there is no known record of any subject surviving an attack by hellhounds._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"You knew."

Anita didn't deny it. It was Saturday evening and Harry had spent the whole day in the library reading everything he could find on crossroads demons and hellhounds, hoping to find something that contradicted what he'd read Friday night. But everything said the same—ten years to the day after making a deal, the hellhounds would be unleashed to hunt him down and there was no avoiding it. There were plants, potions, and spells that could repel the hellhounds, and they could be killed—some wizards had fought them off for weeks—but there were always new ones to take their place and eventually they got through some weakness or the wizard simply wasn't quick enough with their wand.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded angrily.

"I told you they would take our souls."

"You didn't tell me they'd _kill us!_ "

"Well how else did you think they'd get our souls?" she snapped at him. He didn't answer, grinding his teeth angrily; in retrospect, the 'cut it out like an appendix' theory he'd had before was a bit stupid given they were dealing with demons, but he still felt she ought to have told him.

Realising he wasn't going to answer, she went on, "I don't know why you're getting so upset about it anyway. They'll take us to hell and then after a while we'll rejoin the cycle of life and death. Be reborn."

"I don't want to go to hell!" he cried, then cringed when Madam Pince told him off for being too noisy. When she'd moved on, he added in an angry whisper, "What d'you mean reborn, anyway?"

"It's what the Gurus say," she explained. "People die, they go to heaven or hell depending on how they're judged, and then when they've had their turn there they're reborn."

"Gurus? You mean that's for Sikhs? I'm not a Sikh."

"I don't think it matters. It happens to everyone."

"I still don't want to go to hell."

"Should have thought of that before you made your deal. They were demons, Harry, of course we're going to hell. I mean, even the Christian stuff they taught us in Little Whinging talked about demons, you should have realised it was bad. But you didn't even think about it, did you? You just thought you'd get all those spells in your head and the wand and that would be it. Didn't you?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. He wanted to blame her, to accuse her of driving him to it, but he knew it would be a lie. He'd made the choice himself, he'd put his picture in that box and buried it, and he'd agreed to the deal with Crowley. His parents had taught him that while ignorance wasn't a despicable failure, it was something that someone should seek to change about themselves, and when their own ignorance brought them harm they couldn't blame other people for it.

"Why aren't you afraid?" he asked her, still a little sulky.

"Harry, I spent most of the sixth year of my life being possessed by a demon."

"Exactly! I was attacked by a werewolf when I was seven and I'm terrified of them. You should be scared after being possessed for so long."

"There's no point. That demon is gone now and what happened while it was in me is over, and I've had a lot of therapy to deal with it. The demon I made my deal with gave me power and I knew the consequences when I asked for it. I can't stop what's going to happen; I'm going to hell, I will pay my dues, and I will be reborn. It's pointless to waste energy being afraid of that."

Harry couldn't bring himself to have the same laid back opinion and whatever she said about going through hell and being reborn, he didn't want to die. He was going to keep searching for a possible way out of paying up; he might find a book with more information in the restricted section, or in shops in Knockturn Alley. Maybe if he became a vampire the dogs wouldn't come for him. But even if he didn't find something before his ten years were up, he was going to fight, and fight _hard_.

On Thursday, the Slytherins had their first flying lesson and it was held with the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs had already had theirs, and Tori told Harry afterwards, "It's pretty basic, really. I think it's mostly for the Muggleborns and people who don't have brooms at home. She didn't teach us anything I don't already know."

Harry's own lesson turned out a little more interesting. Neville Longbottom, who was in Gryffindor, ended up falling from his broomstick and breaking his wrist. The moment Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, had bustled him off to the Hospital Wing, Draco Malfoy burst out laughing and mocked him, then scooped something up from the grass.

"Look!" he crowed, holding up a small glass ball. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Harry didn't know what it was, but he could guess it had something to do with the confrontation between Draco and Neville at breakfast that morning. He'd watched it from across the Great Hall as he ate breakfast. He was conflicted about Neville; he seemed a nice enough boy, but he didn't have much of a spine. Unless there was someone with him to boost his courage, he didn't seem capable of standing up for himself, and Harry didn't like it. A person should stand up for themselves, he felt.

But he knew for a fact that he didn't like Draco, who picked on anyone who wasn't a Slytherin. He called the Gryffindors brash and stupid, the Hufflepuffs pathetic and weak, the Ravenclaws nerdy and dull. He was snobbish and full of himself and Harry didn't like it, so spoke up.

"Drop it, Malfoy."

Draco turned to him, lip curling in disdain. "Why should I, Potter?"

"Because it's not yours. Leave it alone."

"Fine," Draco sneered. "I'll just leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find… like in a tree!"

He leapt onto his broomstick and took off. For the past week he'd been boasting about his flying skills and he clearly hadn't been lying. He _was_ good, though Harry felt his own skills were definitely on par.

"Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry had put down his own broom when Neville and Hooch left, figuring the lesson was over, and he didn't bother picking it up now. Instead, he drew his wand, felt a little bit smug at the expression of fear that flickered across Draco's face, focused on the ball in Draco's hand, and said clearly, " _Accio!_ "

It leapt out of Draco's hand and straight down to Harry, who snatched it out of the air and turned his back on Draco, going over to Anita and holding the ball out to her.

"Give it back to Longbottom when you next see him."

She took it with a nod. "Nice spell work. Is that a hard one?"

"Potter!"

Harry turned. Draco landed hard on the ground just ahead of him, face twisted angrily and cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and dropped the broomstick to pull his wand out.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" he spat, wand tip aimed at Harry's nose. "Famous Harry Potter thinks he's so much better than the rest of us, but you're not. Just because you can do a few spells doesn't mean you're anything more than a short, greasy, halfie."

There were a few sharp inhales at that. Halfie wasn't quite as offensive as Mudblood, but it was still incredibly rude.

Harry still had his own wand in hand and he raised it defensively. "Firstly, it's Potter-Valentine and I don't care if you think it's a mouthful, it's my name. Secondly, I don't think I'm better than you, Malfoy; I _know_ I am."

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Potter-Valentine! Put those wands away immediately."

Hooch was back. Without taking their eyes off each other, Harry and Draco stowed their wands, only looking around when Hooch spoke again.

"This is a flying class, there is absolutely no need for you to have your wands out and if I see them again I'll take points from Slytherin. Is that clear?"

They nodded and the class resumed, passing unremarkably. She made a few corrections to Harry's broom-handling methods, but said he was otherwise a good flier and put him in a group with a few other practised fliers while she gave more attention to the strugglers.

"Why did you stand up for that fat lump, Potter?" Draco asked Harry as they floated around. When Harry ignored him, he rolled his eyes and said with a sneer, "Why do you stand up for that fat lump, Potter- _Valentine_?"

Figuring Draco would just keep bothering him if he didn't answer, Harry told him, "I don't like people who pick on others."

"It's Longbottom. He's pathetic, he deserves to get picked on."

"You think everyone deserves to get picked on."

Draco had the nerve to be offended. "That's not true. I've never picked on you."

Harry smiled. "You don't want to pick on me, Malfoy. You wouldn't like what would happen in return."

Draco scoffed, but he looked a little concerned. From behind Harry, he heard another scornful noise and turned to find Ron hovering unsteadily on a broom that seemed to be trying to drift away to the lake.

"You think you're so special, don't you, Potter? With your stupid snake and just because you know a few spells. You're just an evil dark wizard. I can see it even if you've tricked everyone else."

Harry sighed. It was barely two weeks into term and he was already sick of Ron and Seamus' 'Harry is a dark wizard' spiel. "Weasley, I'm not a dark wizard, but if I were, don't you think it'd be a bad idea to annoy me like you're doing right now?"

Ron's expression said he clearly hadn't thought of this before, but the worry quickly vanished behind cocky dislike again. "You wouldn't do anything to me. If you did, everyone would _know_ you're a dark wizard and they'd throw you out of the school. You don't want them finding out."

There was logic in there somewhere. Maybe. Harry just turned his broom away.

"Don't turn your back on me, Potter!"

"HEY!"

There was a crackle, a fizz, and Harry looked around to find Ron and Draco with their wands out, the former looking disappointed at the fading spark spilling out the end of his wand. Harry's faint irritation with the boy burned suddenly to genuine anger.

"Did you just try and curse me in the back?"

"Uh…"

Draco drifted aside as Harry turned his broom fully, looking almost as apprehensive as Ron did at the expression on Harry's face.

"We're twenty feet in the air," Harry growled. "If you were actually a competent wizard, a curse could have knocked me from my broom and I'd have been in the hospital with Longbottom, if I didn't die. Is that what you were aiming for? Because I'm pretty sure _murdering a classmate_ makes someone a dark wizard way more than speaking to snakes."

Ron went red and mumbled something under his breath. Harry didn't get chance to make him repeat it because Hooch called them all down then and ended the class. Harry felt he'd probably made his point and made a note to keep an eye on Ron in future, just in case, but he heard Draco turning on the other boy.

"You should just go home now, Weasley. That spell you cast was pathetic. You're as bad as Longbottom."

"Like you could do any better, Malfoy."

"I could take you on any day of the week. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only—no contact."

"I'll kick your arse. Seamus is my second. Who's yours?"

"Potter."

"No way!" Ron cried at the same moment Harry spun around, just at the bottom of the steps to the castle. "He's a freak of magic, you can't choose him. Pick someone else."

"I'm not duelling with you, Malfoy," Harry agreed. "Take one of your lackeys."

Draco scowled, but Harry's expression kept him from arguing. "Fine. Goyle. We'll meet you at midnight, alright? In the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

Satisfied they weren't trying to drag him into it, Harry carried on his way. Anita caught up to him and asked if he wanted to hang out before dinner, to which he agreed, and as they headed into the Entrance Hall they heard Hermione Granger lecturing Ron about breaking school rules. Next to Harry, Anita rolled her eyes; she didn't like Hermione, who was a bossy know-it-all. Harry's more sensitive ears also picked up Gregory Goyle wondering if it was really a good idea for them to be sneaking out at night.

"We're _not_ , Goyle," Draco said as if that should be obvious. "But Weasley and Finnigan won't be able to resist so we'll tell Filch or someone that some Gryffindors are planning to sneak out tonight and then they'll get caught."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. Ron deserved all the trouble he found, but that didn't make Draco's actions any less petty.

"What did you want to do?" he asked Anita, who was tugging him up the main staircase.

"I want to know what's behind the door. I tried using an unlocking charm that I found in _The Standard book of Spells_ , but it didn't work. I'm not sure if I was doing it wrong or if it just wasn't powerful enough, but I want to know what's there so I need you."

"You're mad. You could have been killed."

"I'd have been fine."

"Uh huh," he said sceptically, not sure that even her demon granted power would protect her from whatever was behind the door.

The third floor was empty, but Harry put Invisibility Charms on them this time so they wouldn't be noticed, and then cast a See Through Spell on the door. Both their jaws dropped when they saw what was on the other side and Harry was suddenly immensely thankful that he'd thought to use the one-way version of the See Through Spell.

Anita was the first to speak. "It's got three heads."

"Uh huh."

"That's three mouths."

"Yep."

"It could eat us both at the same time."

"It could."

They both shuddered. Curiosity satisfied, Harry lifted his wand to remove the See Through Spell, only to pause. "Hey, look. At its feet."

The three-headed dog in the corridor beyond had shifted, allowing them to see a trapdoor set into the floor.

"It's a guard," Anita realised. "I wonder what's down there."

"Oh no. No, we're not going."

"Come on, Harry. Between you and me, I'm sure we can deal with that dog. I can probably do it myself, even. I can move things and hold them in place. I just need you to open the door for me."

"We don't know what's down there!"

"Which is why I want to find out."

She was determined, he could see it in her eyes. If he didn't help her now, she'd figure out a way past the door and go down there herself, probably getting killed in the process. Groaning, he looked around, half hoping a teacher or someone would appear at the other end of the hall, thus preventing them from being able to go, but no one did.

"Oh, fine. But if we get caught and expelled I'm finding out where you live and coming to your house to hex you."

"Deal," Anita said, grinning. "Open it up."

Grumbling slightly, he tapped his wand to the door and muttered a spell to determine the strength of the locking charm on it, and was surprised to find only a very basic one that would open with the Alohomora Charm. He cast that silently, so Anita wouldn't realise how easy it was to open and try it herself some other time, then let her go inside first.

With a single sharp gesture of her hand, the massive dog was flung across the corridor and pinned to the wall, yelping. Worried the noise would draw unwanted attention, Harry hurriedly put a Silencing Spell on the animal and then went to the trapdoor, yanking it open. It was so dark inside that he dismissed the Shades Charm he wore almost constantly these days, but even that didn't make it much lighter. He conjured a ball of light that he could send down into darkness and it eventually lit up a mess of plant vines below.

"There's a soft landing," he told Anita, who despite her assurances was sweating a little, hand still held out to keep the dog back, "but it's a plant and for all we know it could be something lethal. It probably is."

"That's it?" Anita said, a little breathlessly. "They're hiding a plant?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's unique, or expensive or super dangerous or something. We've found out now, anyway. Let's go."

She looked at the trapdoor, hesitant, but then nodded reluctantly. Harry shut the trapdoor and left first, hands on the door ready to shove it shut as soon as Anita backed out. He relocked it, removed their Invisibility Charms, and they headed off.

"I'm so disappointed. I thought it'd be something interesting for sure."

"Why? All Dumbledore said at the start of the year was that it was 'a painful death'. Nothing about it being interesting."

"It should be," she grumbled. "All that over a plant…"

He patted her sympathetically on the back, opened his mouth to suggest she have something sweet at dinner to cheer her up, but before he could—

"… _rip… tear… kill…"_

He stopped short, gripping Anita's arm tight. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She glanced back, concerned the dog had escaped from its corridor, but the door was still firmly shut.

"It's that voice, the one I heard last week—"

"… _soo hungry… for so long… kill… time to kill…"_

He broke into a sprint, hearing Anita running after him. The voice was heading downwards, regardless of walls and ceilings, and he felt equal parts fear and relief. He was certain that it wasn't inside his head, but that meant something was in the castle planning to kill and he was possibly the only person who could hear it. He had to find it before it hurt someone.

He hurtled down a staircase, wand in hand, and leapt the last few steps then ran down a corridor and skidded to a stop where it intersected with another. Anita ran up beside him, panting.

"Harry, what—"

"Shh!"

"… _I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"_

"This way!"

He set off again, heart pounding, hand tight on his wand, down a corridor, around a corner, then another one, left at a T-junction, and then he stopped so suddenly Anita almost ran into him.

"Har- oh no."

Painted on the wall in foot high letters was:

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._  
 _ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

Underneath, hanging from a torch bracket by her tail, was Mrs Norris, the caretaker's cat, and above the writing, crucified by the wrists, was Mr Filch himself.

"Did the voice do that?" Anita asked in a whisper. Harry nodded, certain of it even though he couldn't really know for sure.

"What if it's still here? What was it anyway? I couldn't hear it."

"I don't know."

Chattering voices drifted down the hall towards them and it occurred to Harry that they didn't want to get caught standing in front of this, but it was too late. A group of older students turned into the corridor, stopping abruptly when they saw the writing on the wall, the cat, the caretaker, and the two first years. Staring at them, Harry noticed that every single one of them had a silver prefect badge pinned to their robes, except for two seventh years who had Head Boy and Head Girl badges.

"Oh Merlin," breathed the Head Girl, staring wide-eyed at the caretaker. "Is he dead?"

"Clearwater, fetch a teacher," ordered the Head Boy, voice trembling slightly. "Mulligan, go with her and be careful, both of you."

Two Ravenclaw prefects broke away from the group. The Head Boy, also a Ravenclaw, approached Harry and Anita, as did the Hufflepuff Head Girl, a red-haired Gyffindor prefect, and Lisa Patterson, the Slytherin prefect.

"You two," the Head Boy said sharply. "Did you see who did this?"

"No, we just found him right before you turned up," Harry answered. "Are they dead?"

"I'm pretty sure Filch is," Lisa answered, peering up at the caretaker. "There's no blood around the wounds in his wrists."

"He might just be stunned," suggested the red-haired Gryffindor hopefully. Lisa gave him a dirty look.

"If he was stunned, he'd be bleeding, Weasley. No blood when his wrists were impaled means his heart wasn't pumping at the time, which means he was dead."

"We should get him down, then."

"No," the Head Boy objected. "Nobody touches anything until the teachers arrive."

"What's that writing mean?" Anita asked. "What's the Chamber of Secrets?"

She didn't get an answer. Clearwater and Mulligan returned then with Gareth, McGonagall, Quirrell, and Dumbledore. Quirrell whimpered and looked like he was about to faint when he saw the scene. Dumbledore and Gareth set about taking down the caretaker, and McGonagall questioned the students on what happened.

"What does it mean by 'Enemies of the Heir'?" Harry asked after they'd explained. Dumbledore and Gareth had hurried Filch and the cat away to the Hospital Wing, which seemed a bit pointless, but Harry supposed they had to take the bodies somewhere. He hadn't mentioned the voice he heard and thankfully neither did Anita. He wasn't sure they'd believe him that it hadn't been inside his head; he had no proof, after all, and there was still a small part of him that wondered if maybe it _was_ just in his head.

"You're not familiar with the story of the Chamber of Secrets, Mr Potter-Valentine? You'll learn soon enough," McGonagall told him when he shook his head, then directed her attention to include the prefects still hovering about. "Everyone please return immediately to your common rooms."

"What about dinner?" asked a particularly large seventh year.

"It'll be sent to the common rooms. Go now, please, and send anyone else that you find along the way."

They nodded and Harry said goodbye to Anita before heading off with the Slytherin prefects. They heard McGonagall's voice ring through the entire castle soon after, ordering everyone back to their common rooms immediately and asking for the teachers to come to the Hospital Wing.

Down in Slytherin, Harry and the prefects explained what had happened and it was half an hour before Gareth arrived to explain more. He confirmed the deaths as murders, said they didn't know who or what had done it, and when Tracey Davis asked about the Chamber of Secrets he paused briefly before answering.

"A message was left with Mr Filch, but the headmaster wishes me to inform you that the castle has been searched repeatedly in the past for Slytherin's legendary chamber and it has never been found. Mr Filch was a Squib and the headmaster is treating these deaths as a hate crime, with Slytherin's chamber used as a diversion. Aurors will be called to investigate further."

He paused, glancing over them solemnly before continuing softly, "I have every faith that not a single one of you is responsible for this, but due to the message left by the perpetrator, understand that all of us will be suspects. Expect the prejudice our house suffers to get worse until the killer is found and realise that your peers may accuse some of you of the death. I understand it as well as any of you—as Head of Slytherin, I will be a prime suspect, though I give you my word that I did not do this and the headmaster believes me innocent, for what that's worth to you—so I do not speak lightly when I ask you to please hold your tempers and restrain your wands when you're faced with accusations and insults.

"I know that we are all innocent, and that it's infuriating to suffer prejudice without retaliating, but everything we do right now will be scrutinised. Every jinx and hex that passes our lips will be looked on as a sign of how terrible we are, and while it shouldn't fall on us to stop people being prejudiced, we nevertheless should give them no reason to think any worse of us than they already will. Stand up for each other, take comfort in our unity, and report everything to me. You have my promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure any prejudices against Slytherin house are dealt with, in a way that makes it clear we are not to blame."

* * *

Once Harry knew the full story about the Chamber of Secrets, he wasn't the least bit surprised when he became the prime suspect as the Heir of Slytherin. He was a Parselmouth, a Slytherin, and he'd been found at the scene of the crime—this was more than enough for most people to consider him guilty.

Fortunately, Sirius Black and Kingsley Shacklebolt weren't most people, and they were the Aurors brought in to investigate. Sirius was shocked to discover Harry was a Parselmouth, but he believed Harry's innocence and his reason for being at the scene of the crime.

Lessons were cancelled the next day and a memorial service for Filch was held in the afternoon, but that was all the allowance that was given. His body was returned to his only remaining family, a sister in Surrey, to be buried. Most of the students turned up for the service in the Great Hall, but almost none of them shed a tear for the dead man. Harry had to wonder if the teachers had as low opinion of the caretaker as the students, because the practical tests he was scheduled to take on Saturday were only postponed by a day.

His Herbology, History, Potions, and Astronomy work already proved that he wasn't ahead in those subjects, so he was given no practical for Herbology and Potions, but Professor McGonagall had him transfigure and conjure, looking more and more impressed with each spell he cast. Flitwick challenged him with charm after charm and got so excited he toppled off the pile of books he stood on to see over his desk. Quirrell at first didn't seem very eager to test him, but after a few spells he seemed a little more interested and when he asked Harry to perform the Patronus Charm he was so surprised to see a silver crow burst out of Harry's wand that he said a whole sentence without stuttering.

Harry got a kick out of being able to use a good portion of the spells sitting inside his head and felt a swelling pride at their surprise and praise, but Quirrell's test was less pleasant on account of the raging headache that started about ten minutes into it and steadily got worse as they went on, a sharp throbbing pain radiating out from his old lightning bolt scar. He spent most of Sunday doing the tests and afterwards went to the Hospital Wing to ask for a pain reliever for his headache, then spent the rest of the evening relaxing. The three teachers needed to give their reports to Dumbledore and Gareth, who was involved as Harry's Head of House, and confer on the results.

Sirius and Kingsley stayed in the castle for the weekend, but they left Monday morning without even a solid suspect. They'd done all they could, the investigation was remaining open, and they found no evidence that any Heir of Slytherin was still about, but some people still voiced their complaints; they felt safer with Aurors in the castle. Harry was glad they were leaving; Dumbledore informing everyone that the Aurors believed the death to be a one-off attack, the message on the wall nothing more than the scrawlings of someone trying to make it seem like more than just a hateful attack on a Squib, was enough to appease some people and reduce the suspicion levelled against him. He didn't know why people who'd believe him to be the Heir of Slytherin wouldn't also believe him capable of a stand-alone murder, but he didn't care as long as it meant he wasn't being hassled.

Gareth called him to his office a few days later to discuss the outcome of his tests.

"They've all agreed that you could probably take your NEWT practical today and pass with flying colours," he said with a grin that Harry couldn't help returning, "and even in theory you're fairly well advanced, especially in Charms. The problem is," he went on, grin fading, "we can't move you into higher classes for just those three lessons because of timetable conflicts. As such, all they can do for now is assign you different work to do in your current classes. A lot of it is going to be out of books, as I'm sure you realise."

"Yeah." He wasn't sure how he felt about it, to be honest. On the one hand, he'd psyched himself up a bit to be doing something different from his year mates, something that set him apart more than just reading books while they practised spells. But a different part of him was repulsed by the idea of standing out and getting special attention—it was bad enough being noticed and talked about for being the Boy Who Lived, not to mention all the current attention over the Heir of Slytherin and Filch—and the thought of sitting in a class with a bunch of students several years older than him was a little intimidating and he was glad not to have to do it.

Gareth added that, if he progressed well enough with the theory, he could take his OWLs in those three subjects in a year or two, and his NEWTs soon after that.

When he wrote home about it, Gabriel suggested he take up home schooling again, but Harry refused. He was fine with the plan in mind, even if it did quickly get boring to spend Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence lessons reading higher level texts and doing worksheets while his classmates practised their spell work. Potions and Herbology quickly became his favourite subjects, being the only lessons in which he actually got to work on things. He found Astronomy difficult, and History remained painfully boring, so much so that he couldn't even be bothered to raise his hand and point out when Binns said something that contradicted what Gabriel and Lorna had told him.

Tori wasn't so restrained. It soon became well known that not a single first year Ravenclaw History class could go by without her contradicting some fact or another, and Tori became famous for being the first student whose name Binns got right regularly. According to the older students, he was so bad at remembering anyone's name that he didn't even know the handful of NEWT students who took his advanced classes.

"You don't think it's possible that Gabriel got some things wrong," Harry suggested one day at dinner when Tori was complaining about Binns.

"No," she said immediately. "I looked into it. Binns died in eighteen-fifty-two. He's not even as old as Mum, so I'm pretty sure her and Dad are right about things that happened before the nineteenth century, Harry."

He couldn't really argue with that.

Mr Filch's murderer remained unfound, but when nothing more was heard of the Heir of Slytherin people stopped worrying about it so much and it soon became nothing more than an unfortunate incident. The new caretaker arrived at the start of October. Mr Wallace, an elderly, bald, but spry man, was almost immediately accepted as a much better replacement, especially when he not only avoided Fred and George Weasley's Welcome to Hogwarts prank, which involved a chair that turned into a pig and copious amounts of pink paint and medical lube, but also managed to turn it on them so the twins were seen running around the school, fluorescent pink and chasing after a very slippery runaway pig.

October brought a chill to the castle. Draco invited Harry to fly with him one day, much to his surprise, and Harry almost agreed just because Draco was the only other flier in their class who was as good as him, but he refused because Draco still picked on people for no good reason and called Harry a halfie. He didn't sneer it the same way he said Mudblood—in fact he tended to say it as an almost fond nickname—but that didn't make him any more likeable.

A week before Hallowe'en, Gareth told Harry that because he was an official student now, he'd have to write home and ask his parents to write to Dumbledore requesting permission for Harry to leave the school on Hallowe'en to visit his parents' graves. Given that Gareth would still be the one taking him, and Dumbledore was probably well aware of the tradition since the time when Snape had been doing it, Harry thought this was a bit silly but he wrote home anyway.

Hallowe'en fell on a Thursday that year. The rest of the students were getting excited about the feast that would be that evening, and when the other first years heard that Harry would be missing it they were shocked.

" _Why?_ " Theo Nott asked incredulously at lunch. "The Hogwarts Hallowe'en feast is supposed to be the best one they serve."

"I'm going to visit my birth parents' grave. I'm not in the habit of celebrating their deaths," Harry replied simply, and everyone had looked away awkwardly and said nothing more about it.

Harry's last class of the day was Flying lessons and he went straight back to Slytherin afterwards to dump his bag, change out of his uniform and grab his cloak, then went to Gareth's office. Gareth was already there, ready to go, but with his left hand wrapped in a bandage.

"Nothing serious," he assured Harry when asked about it, but wouldn't elaborate further. Harry wouldn't have thought anything of it except it wasn't the first time since arriving at Hogwarts that Gareth had had a bandaged hand.

They left straight from his office, taking a Portkey into Godric's Hollow. Harry told Lily and James his news of the past year, they went to the pub for dinner, and then headed back, returning to Gareth's office directly. They had left early and were back soon enough that the Hallowe'en feast was still only just beginning.

"Are you going to go join it?" Gareth asked Harry, putting away the empty ink pot that had served as their Portkey. Harry shook his head. "Then go straight back to Slytherin."

Harry nodded; it was what he'd planned to do anyway, to spend the rest of the evening looking through his photo album, but he'd barely reached the dormitory and removed his cloak when he suddenly heard—

" _Kill… let me rip… tear…"_

He whipped around, jerking his wand from its holster, and at the same moment Samantha, who'd been up near the glass front of her terrarium and asking to come out for a bit to have a stretch and a slither, abruptly darted away to disappear under her log hideaway. Surprised, Harry went over and slid the front open.

" _Samantha, did you hear that?_ "

There was no answer and when he tried to lift the log she snapped at him, catching his finger with her teeth. He jerked back, looking in surprise at the two pinpricks of blood on his finger. She'd never done that before.

"… _hungry… so hungry…"_

Samantha gave an answering hiss of fear and Harry suddenly understood—it was a snake he could hear. Probably big and dangerous if Samantha was so scared of it. He should have realised before; what else would Salazar Slytherin, famous for being a Parselmouth, have hidden away in his secret chamber? Because he was sure that's what it was. The Aurors and Dumbledore were wrong; it was Slytherin's heir who'd killed Filch. Why else would he be hearing this voice again?

Figuring that, as the only Parselmouth in school, he should probably make sure there wasn't a giant snake about to eat someone, he closed the terrarium again and left the dorm. The voice had been faint and moving away, so he went straight out of Slytherin and headed up towards the Entrance Hall.

"… _kill… time to kill…"_

That made him freeze for a moment. The voice sounded so sinister, even for a snake. He'd spoken to more than a few, finding grass snakes and adders in the garden at home, but even the angry adder he'd once had to keep from biting Tori hadn't sounded as unpleasant as what he was hearing now.

He broke into a run. In the Entrance Hall, the noise from the Great Hall made it impossible to hear, but he was certain it had been moving upwards so he rushed up the main staircase, straining his ears.

"… _I smell blood… I SMELL—"_

Voices from below drowned it out. The nervous chatter of hundreds of students suddenly drifted up the stairs and he heard one voice shouting, "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first-years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a Prefect!"

Troll? Trolls didn't speak Parseltongue. That would be just great, he thought sarcastically; a troll and a murderous snake in the castle all at once.

He considered running towards the pompous sounding prefect and explaining about the snake, but he wasn't sure he'd be believed and by the sounds of it half the school was heading in his direction anyway. Better if he reached the snake first and convinced it not to hurt anyone before someone else found it.

But he was too late. Up on the fourth floor he found a crowd of Ravenclaws gathered around the prone form of Ned Barrows, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, and the Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw house ghost. Harry didn't know what had happened to her, but she floated on the spot, smoky black instead of the usual dull grey, and he stuck around only long enough to get a glimpse of her. He had Gareth for an alibi, but the short time since they parted ways was probably enough for people to accuse him of attacking Ned and the Grey Lady and he didn't fancy being caught hanging around when he had no reason for being there. He took a roundabout route to avoid the crowd of students coming up and managed to sneak back to Slytherin to join the group of them that were filing down from the Great Hall.

In the common room, Theo Nott found him and explained the sudden end of the feast. Harry and Theo were sort of friends; Theo was bookish and quiet, preferring to keep to himself and the notebooks that he was nearly always writing in, but they bonded over a joint dislike of Draco. They always joined up whenever they had to work in pairs in class, because despite Draco's friendship with Crabbe and Goyle he realised they were barely bright enough to write their own names and wanted to partner with someone else, which meant he normally worked with Blaise, who didn't seem to mind him as much as Theo and Harry.

"There's a _troll_ in the castle," Theo said, his voice cracking slightly as he said it. "In the _dungeons_ , and Dumbledore just blithely sent us all back to our dorms. Did he forget that our common room is _in the dungeon?!_ We're lucky we weren't killed on our way here!"

"But what would a troll be doing in the castle?"

This clearly wasn't the right reaction because Theo gave him a withering look, but shook off some of his shock enough to answer, "No idea. Quirrell just came blundering into the Great Hall and announced that there was a troll in the dungeon, and then fainted. Pathetic."

Harry nodded an idle agreement but mostly wondered how a troll could get into the castle. They weren't very intelligent and normally didn't approach human dwellings. He didn't think it was connected to Slytherin's Heir, either. The Heir had a blood-thirsty monster of a snake working for him; what did he need a troll for?

The feast continued in the common room, food sent to the various tables scattered about. Harry helped himself to a toffee apple, but otherwise left everyone else to it and retired to the dorm. He wasn't sure if he should bring up his revelation about the snake to anyone. On the one hand, it might help them catch it, but on the other the location of Slytherin's chamber was still unknown and claiming to know what was inside it might just make everyone suspicious of him again, especially after yet another attack.

He had to leave the dorm when Gareth came by half an hour later. He made a solemn announcement that troll had been dealt with without trouble, and the staff would take steps to ensure it never happened again, but there was another attack by Slytherin's Heir. Unlike Filch, however, Ned Barrows wasn't dead, merely petrified, as was the Grey Lady.

Harry almost asked Gareth if they could speak privately, but in the end he kept his silence. He couldn't understand why, if it was a snake, none of the victims had been eaten. Both times he heard the snake it had talked about being hungry, and yet so far all the victims were left alone. It suggested that Slytherin's Heir himself was attacking them and forbidding the snake to eat them. Perhaps Ned had been left alive as a message and a warning.

As a Parselmouth himself, Harry didn't want to assume that the Heir's fondness for murder and violence was connected to their fondness of snakes. He would look into it first and find out what kind of snake could terrify Samantha from voice alone.

* * *

The troll and the new attack were the talk of the school. Harry found out what happened with the troll the next day, just before potions, and it was the last thing he expected: Anita had killed it by beating it around the head with its own club.

When the announcement came during the feast that there was a troll in the castle and everyone was sent back to their dorms, Anita had slipped away from the rest of the Gryffindors to go warn Hermione Granger, who had been crying in a bathroom because Ron Weasley made fun of her in their Charms class. Unfortunately the troll had found its way to the very bathroom where Hermione was hiding just as Anita was convincing Hermione to come out. Both girls were so startled by it that they'd very nearly been killed, but Anita had got over her fear first, used her demon magic to wrest the troll's club from it, and then beaten it over the head until the troll toppled over with its skull caved in. Harry asked if this meant Hermione was aware of her demon powers now, but apparently she'd been too busy staring at the troll in stunned horror to notice that Anita wasn't using her wand, and thus assumed she'd just used the Levitation Charm that the first years recently learnt.

The Heir of Slytherin still scared people most—the troll had been dealt with; Slytherin's monster was still out there, and Harry was once again a prime suspect, word soon getting out that he hadn't been present at the feast, and even having Gareth for an alibi wasn't enough to change their minds. Samantha didn't know what the monster was, but it terrified her. When Harry finally coaxed her out of hiding, she told him in her broken words that whatever had been about the castle that night was big, dangerous, and she never wanted to meet it.

Before Herbology on Tuesday after Hallowe'en, Tori tugged Harry away from the rest of their classmates as they waited for Professor Sprout to arrive and said to him in a hushed voice, in French, «You know the forbidden corridor? I know what's in it.»

Baffled by this unexpected topic of conversation, he nevertheless replied, «So do I.»

She looked surprised. «For how long?»

«About the second week of term.»

She gaped, then huffed and scowled. «Why didn't you tell me?»

He shrugged. «I didn't think it was that big a deal.»

She opened her mouth to say more, but Sprout arrived then and they were all ushered into the greenhouse. They did no practical work that day, just had a lecture on the different types of fertiliser and which was best for certain types of plants, and Tori sat beside Harry at the back of the class to continue their conversation.

«Do you want to know about the third floor?»

«What's to know? I've already seen the dog.»

«Did you see the trap door?»

He nodded.

«Well I bet you don't know what's under it.»

«Plants.»

She blinked. «What?»

«Plants. I don't know what kind, they were too far away, but it's just plants. I looked.»

«That can't be right,» she said, frowning. She lowered her voice even further, despite the fact that Harry didn't think any of their classmates spoke French. «Do you remember that report in August about Gringotts being robbed?»

Harry nodded. It'd been front page news for a week because the thief hadn't been caught.

«There was an update in September that the vault which was robbed had been emptied that very same day, and I started thinking about how everyone says Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in Britain—the only place the Dark Lord didn't attack during the war—so I thought maybe whatever was being held in Gringotts was moved to here.»

«You think a plant was being held in Gringotts?» Harry asked sceptically, but she shook her head.

«The plant's probably just another protection, something else like Fluffy.»

«Fluffy? You _named_ it?»

« _I_ didn't. Hagrid did.»

«The gamekeeper?»

«Yes. The robbery happened on your birthday and I remembered that he'd been in Diagon Alley that day. We saw him coming out of Gringotts, remember? I thought he might have seen something while he was there so I went to see him. He tried to break my teeth with his rock cakes, but I managed to get him talking and he let slip that the dog belongs to him, _and_ that whatever it's guarding belongs to Nicolas Flamel.»

«What do mean he tried to break your teeth?» Harry asked, alarmed. «If he hurt you—»

«No, not like that, I just meant he's a terrible cook. But Harry—Flamel.»

He frowned. «That name sounds familiar.»

«He's a friend of Dad's. Harry, he _made the Philosopher's Stone!_ »

«Oh. _Oh._ » He got it now. «You think that's what the dog is guarding?»

«What else could it be? And I think the troll was meant to be a diversion so someone could try and steal it.»

«Do you think it's the Heir of Slytherin?»

«Maybe,» she said, but without conviction. «But I'm not sure. It seems a bit stupid to let the troll in and attack Ned Barrows and the Grey Lady on the same night. I think it's more likely someone else is trying to steal it.»

«Same.»

She looked at him shrewdly now. «Have you heard anything?»

«What do you mean?»

She rolled her eyes. «In Slytherin. You might not be the heir, but someone is and chances are they're in your house.»

He scowled at her. «You don't think that if I knew who it was I would have told someone by now?»

«Obviously, but you might have heard something suspicious. Something to give you a suspect at least.»

«No,» he sighed. «Nothing. They're all just confused and afraid, like everyone else.»

«Maybe we should look into who has a grudge against all the victims.»

«We? What are you, a detective now?»

«Don't you want to know? About the heir _and_ about the Philosopher's Stone?»

«Yeah, but…»

«But?»

He shrugged. «I don't want to get in trouble for sticking our noses where they're not meant to be. Or draw the heir's attention.»

She dismissed this with a wave of her hand. «We've got vampires for parents and our birth parents were magical as well. The Heir won't come after us, not unless they want to face Mum and Dad in a rage. And we won't get in trouble as long as we don't get caught—or if we stop the thief, because then everyone'll be too grateful.»

«Speaking of Gabriel and Lorna, have you told them about everything going on here?»

«Not exactly,» she answered shiftily. «You know what Dad's like, he still thinks we need babying. He knows about Filch, it was in the paper, but I haven't said anything about the attack on that Hufflepuff and the Grey Lady. I don't want them worrying. Why? Did you say anything?»

Harry shook his head. «I thought the same. Gabriel would probably pull us out if he thought there was a great monster roaming the school.»

He meant to get to the library to research snakes and maybe figure out what Slytherin's monster was, but somehow never found time and before he knew it over a week had passed and the first Quidditch match of the year was upon them. There had been talk of it being cancelled in light of everything that was happening, but loud objections from the Quidditch teams and the fact that no one had yet been attacked out on the grounds meant it went ahead. It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor and Harry was keen to watch. Aside from being a general Quidditch fan and wanting to support his house, he had every intention of trying out for the Slytherin house team next year and wanted to see what level of skill the Hogwarts teams played at.

The two teams were fairly evenly matched, but with two distinct play styles. The Gryffindor Chasers had perfected the skill of working together, passing the Quaffle between them and moving into place as if they were one mind sharing three bodies. The Slytherins lacked that, but the Beaters slammed Bludgers at the Gryffindors with enough force to almost knock them from their brooms and the Chasers were good at darting into just the right place to interrupt the Gryffindors' teamwork. The Keepers were almost evenly matched, but Gryffindor's Oliver Wood was just better enough to be noticeable and the Gryffindors managed to score more goals.

The score was 60-20 when Harry fell. Or rather, was pushed. He stood with the other first years, cheering on the Slytherins and trying to make enough noise between them to drown out the other three houses, all of whom were supporting Gryffindor. This wasn't just the increased anti-Slytherin attitudes generated by the Heir of Slytherin; Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup for five years in a row, so Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were eager to see them lose it even if it meant going to Gryffindor instead of them.

Harry had got himself a spot at the front of the stands, squeezed between Millicent and Theo, with Tracey, Pansy, and Daphne behind him. He wasn't sure which of them pushed him, only knew that he felt a hand slam hard into his back just after Marcus Flint scored and brought the score up to 60-30.

He screamed, arms flailing as he went head-first over the railing. He heard the others shouting above him, and then something latched around his midriff and he jerked to a halt so sharply he was almost sick. Twisting to look up, he saw Theo bent over the railing, wand pointed down at Harry, but his face was drawn and already streaked with sweat. The first years had only just learnt the Levitation Charm and it was clear that Harry's weight was too much for Theo to properly control yet.

Harry drew his own wand, tucked as it always was in the holster at his hip, and pointed it at the ground. He knew he could soften it to cushion his fall, or use a charm that slowed his descent so he'd hit it with no more force than if he were only a few feet up, but he decided to be extra sure and use both. He cast the Cushioning Charm first, then looked back up.

"Theo, let go!"

"What?! But you'll—ARGH!" Theo lost concentration and Harry plummeted, but he was ready for it.

" _Retardandum momentum!_ "

His descent slowed considerably, the ground no longer rushing up to meet him. Even so, his heart was pounding hard inside his chest and only when his feet were back on solid ground—very solid; his Cushioning Charm had either failed or worn off, and both thoughts made him shudder—did he let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Higgs catches the Snitch! Slytherin win, a hundred and eighty to sixty!" Lee Jordan yelled. Harry looked up to see the Slytherin seeker Higgs doing a victory lap of the pitch, Snitch held up above him. As the Slytherins cheered and the other three houses expressed their displeasure, it occurred to him that almost no one except Theo and perhaps the other first years seemed to have noticed his near death experience. Not that he wanted everyone giving him attention _all the time_ , but he was still a little disgruntled that no one noticed him falling to his potential death.

He was proved wrong a moment later, however, when Tori came running across the pitch. The players of both teams were landing and she darted between them, ignoring the shout from Madam Hooch about spectators not being on the pitch until the players were landed, and skidded to a halt in front of Harry, panting. Gareth and McGonagall were also hurrying over from the staff stands.

"Are you alright?" she gasped. "I saw you fall, you could have died!"

"I'm okay. Theo stopped my fall and then I slowed myself." He gestured up, but the Slytherin first years weren't visible; at the same moment, they came rushing out from the steps.

"What the hell happened?" Theo asked. "One minute you were standing next to me and then you were hurtling over the edge."

Harry, his adrenaline fading to be replaced by anger, turned on the three girls who'd been behind him. "One of them pushed me."

"I would never!" "How _dare_ you accuse me of something like that!" "You're mental!"

"Mr Potter-Valentine, are you alright?"

Gareth and McGonagall had reached them. Harry nodded to McGonagall's question and, when she asked what happened, he repeated his accusation. Tracey, Pansy, and Daphne all vehemently denied it again.

"Why are you so sure one of them pushed you?" Gareth asked Harry.

"I felt it. Someone hit my back hard. I'll probably have a bruise later to prove it."

"If that proves to be the case, then we'll punish accordingly," Gareth said, "but unless you have other evidence—did anyone see him get pushed?"

A number of other students had crowded around by them, curious as to what was going on, but they all shook their heads.

"Then we have to presume innocent until proven guilty."

Harry scowled, but didn't bother to argue further and he made a point of avoiding the girls for the rest of the weekend.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

They found Tracey in a sixth floor bathroom two days later, frozen in front of a mirror, wide-eyed and with one hand still raised to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Everyone thought Harry was the Heir now. Word got around about his fall from the Quidditch stands and his accusation against the three girls, and after the attack it was also revealed that Tracey was a Muggleborn—the only Muggleborn Slytherin in the year group. By dinner, the only people who didn't think Harry was the Heir of Slytherin were Tori and, surprisingly enough, Draco Malfoy. Even Anita didn't believe him; she was now hanging around with Hermione Granger. He was even something of a pariah among the Slytherins; attacking other students was one thing, but they took offence when it was one of their own.

Harry couldn't understand why Draco believed him and it irritated him that the only person now willing to sit next to him in class was his enemy. It sometimes felt like Draco was constantly on the verge of telling him something and Harry, unwilling to make Draco feel like they were going to become friends, made a point of giving him no opportunities to really speak with him.

Quidditch was cancelled, along with every other extra curricular activity including music lessons, and a six o'clock curfew was implemented. Everyone would be escorted between lessons by the teachers and even bathroom breaks weren't permitted without an escort, which meant the bathrooms were very crowded at breaktime as everyone tried to go before their next lesson. Almost no teacher was willing to leave in the middle of a lesson just to escort someone to the bathroom.

To make things worse, by the following morning Dumbledore had been suspended by order of the school governors. Even though he'd been able to do nothing so far to help, most people seemed to agree that removing him was a terrible idea. No one was quite so bothered by the arrest of Hagrid, but they were surprised. No one had thought the large but ultimately friendly groundskeeper would be behind the attacks, but that wasn't the only thing he was arrested for—when the Minister of Magic himself came to take Hagrid away, they found him hiding a dragon egg in his hut.

His groundskeeping duties were being split up among the staff until he could be replaced. During one particularly boring History class, Harry watched through the window as Mr Wallace fed the giant squid that lived in the lake. Meanwhile Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was seen cutting the grass on the main lawn one afternoon, and to Harry's great surprise he saw Gareth making his way into the Forbidden Forest. It took longer than it should have for Harry to realise that this mightn't have anything to do with groundskeeping because when Harry saw him, it was eleven o'clock at night and he was slacking off in Astronomy class. Professor Sinistra caught him soon after and he had to focus on the skies again, but he kept glancing towards the Forest and he saw Gareth come striding back out just as their class ended.

Eager to figure out what was going on and clear his name, Harry made plans to finally look into snakes. Library visits were scheduled by year group, with all four houses put together. The first year's had a two-hour visit twice a week, as most of their homework could be completed with just the information in their textbooks, whilst the older students had longer visits more often so they could look up the more complicated texts. The fifth and seventh years had the longest times and were the only year groups put together, so they could get as much time as possible to study for their OWLs and NEWTs. Harry heard Madam Pince, the librarian, mention to Gareth once that even though those were now the busiest times, they was also the quietest.

When Gareth escorted the Slytherin first years to the Library on the Thursday after Tracey's attack, for the two hours before dinner, Harry hung back from the rest of the group to walk alongside him. His relationship with the man had changed slightly as he came to see Gareth as more of a teacher than the family friend that he'd been before, but he was still comfortable enough with him to point to the man's hand, which was bandaged again.

"What happened?"

"Just a cut. Nothing to worry about."

"Why don't you heal it?"

"The blade was enchanted; the wound won't heal with magic."

This wasn't unusual; Snape had taught Harry that some knives used for cutting potion ingredients were enchanted in one way or another, but something about Gareth's story struck him as off. He wasn't sure what, though, so instead asked, "Why were you in the Forbidden Forest the other night?"

Gareth glanced at him. "You saw that?"

"I was in Astronomy."

"I'm pretty sure there are no stars in the Forbidden Forest."

"I didn't say I was paying attention," Harry pointed out with a slight grin. Gareth tutted, but he was smiling.

"If you must know, I was in the Forest because something has been killing the unicorns. Hagrid had meant to investigate it, so I offered to look into it."

"Isn't killing unicorns really bad?"

"Incredibly so. The blood of a unicorn can save you from almost certain death, but at a terrible cost."

"Did you find whatever it was?"

Gareth hesitated, just long enough to be noticeable. "No, but I added some strong protective enchantments to the Forest."

They reached the library then and Gareth left them in the care of Madam Pince.

Harry worried that with every single first year in the library he wouldn't be able to investigate snakes without drawing attention to himself, but everyone was so eager to avoid him that it was easy to just tell Draco in a snappy tone that he didn't want company. He left the blond sitting alone, flushed and insulted, and found the section on magical creatures, which none of the other first years had reason to investigate, then settled at the table there with every book he could find which mentioned snakes.

He ignored everything smaller than four feet, or that was marked as not dangerous, and in the end it didn't take him long to find a likely suspect. The idea of a basilisk slithering around the school was more than a little terrifying, but he couldn't figure out why Ned Barrows and Tracey Davis had only been petrified instead of killed. It didn't help that his head was aching, a near constant throbbing coming from his lightning bolt scar that'd been happening for days, making it hard to think.

He was a little distracted from the problem at dinner by Tori shifting over from the Ravenclaw table to sit beside him and hiss in French, «Look at the staff table!»

He looked. Seated between McGonagall and Gareth was a short, bespectacled, upper-middle-aged man—Nicolas Flamel.

«What's he doing here? Do you think he's come to get the Stone?»

Tori nodded. «With Dumbledore gone, he probably thinks Hogwarts isn't safe enough.»

«Why didn't Dumbledore take it with him?» Harry wondered.

«Maybe Dumbledore didn't have chance to get it. You heard about the Minister of Magic being at the school that night. And I guess Flamel just didn't have chance to come before today either, or he only just heard about Dumbledore being gone.»

«I guess you're out of luck on catching the thief yourself,» Harry said teasingly, earning a scowl from Tori.

«I wonder where he'll hide it now. If Gringotts and Hogwarts are no good, he's running out of places.»

Harry shrugged, turning his mind back to the problem of the snake. «I'm sure he'll find somewhere.»

It wasn't until he was brushing his teeth that night before bed, staring idly into the mirror above the sink as he scrubbed, that he figured it out. The basilisk's stare was fatal, but maybe that was only true of the direct stare. Maybe in a reflection, or through a ghost, the power was subdued enough to only petrify.

He knew then that he couldn't keep it to himself. He had to tell Gareth, the only person he trusted to believe him about it, and he had to do it now. The next person to see the basilisk mightn't be so lucky as Ned and Tracey, who would be revived just as soon as Gareth brewed a Mandrake Restorative Draught, which he'd do when the mandrakes arrived from a supplier (the school's own mandrakes were still in childhood and wouldn't be usable until next summer at the earliest).

He spat and rinsed his mouth without finishing to brush his teeth and hurried out to the common room. As it had been since Tracey's attack, it was busy with everyone stuck inside, which made it easy for Harry to find a couple of prefects. They insisted on knowing why he wanted to see their Head of House at nine o'clock at night and he managed to convince them that he knew something about the Heir of Slytherin.

"Going to confess then, Potter?" sneered a third year. Harry ignored him, but it was clear a few other people thought that the 'information' he had was a confession; if it got him to Gareth, he didn't care what they thought.

* * *

"You're certain Albus said all it took was playing some music?"

Flamel nodded, smiling reassuringly at McGonagall and holding a harmonica. "That's all. He did warn that the dog would wake almost immediately when you stop, but as long as there is melodious sound…"

McGonagall didn't look fully convinced, but she tapped her wand to the door of the forbidden third floor and stood aside as it swung open, allowing Flamel to go in first, already blowing through the harmonica. Fluffy's eyelids dropped, he swayed a few times, and then flopped over with a soft _whump_ and began snoring. McGonagall stepped into the room and Gareth and Quirrell followed. She preferred to go alone, but both of them had insisted they were the only ones who could handle their particular challenges, whereas Sprout and Flitwick had explained how to defeat theirs.

Gareth pulled up the trapdoor, conjured a light that he sent halfway down to light their way, and said, "I'll go first, shall I?"

No one argued so he jumped down without even pausing to take a breath. McGonagall crouched down by the trapdoor and saw him hit the plant below then scramble to his feet before it could wind its tentacles around him. McGonagall gestured Quirrell to go next and he did so looking terrified and clutching at his turban, then she went after him and Flamel came last. The chamber was getting crowded by then and the Devil's Snare confident, so Gareth lit a small fire that drove the plant back while they filed out down the corridor.

Flitwick's challenge was next, but he'd given them the counter-spell to the charm on the keys so they merely had to stand out the way as they all rained down, and then dig through them for the one for the door. McGonagall Untransfigured her own chess set, reducing it to the standard size, then she, Gareth, and Flamel hung back as Quirrell dealt with the troll in the next chamber. He insisted on doing it alone and McGonagall couldn't help wondering if he'd actually return or if they would go in after and find him splattered across the walls. True, he was meant to have an affinity for trolls, but he'd been so nervous since his sabbatical.

But he dealt with it and they moved on through, pinching their noses against the smell the unconscious troll gave off, and entered the room with Gareth's challenge. The only thing in there was a table with a lock pick on it, which he took up and set to work on the final door.

"Is that it?" Flamel asked, notably unimpressed. "Unlock the door?"

"Isn't that the aim of this whole thing?" Gareth replied.

"But where's the challenge?"

"Do you know how to pick a door lock?"

"I don't need to. There are a dozen different unlocking charms."

The lock clicked and Gareth turned with a small grin. "We'll close it on the way back and you can have a go using those charms."

"You jinxed the door against magical unlocking," Flamel realised.

"Yup. And the more powerful the unlocking charm, the worse the jinx that retaliates."

"Albus' is last," McGonagall said. "Gareth, Quirenus, you can return upstairs now."

They nodded, but she thought they both looked disappointed. She waited until they'd vanished through the door before accompanying Flamel forward. The vast final chamber seemed all the bigger for being so empty. The only thing inside was a pedestal on which the Stone sat, at the centre of a dipped floor, but when McGonagall started towards it Flamel grabbed her arm and jerked her back.

"What is it?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a peppermint toad (he was as bad as Albus, she thought; no wonder they were friends), and tossed it onto the stone floor surrounding the pedestal. To McGonagall's surprise, the ground rippled when the toad hit it and then the sweet promptly sank out of sight.

"He told me the reaction to living flesh is remarkably worse," Flamel said, faintly approving. "And painful."

"I assume he also told you the counter-spell?"

Flamel nodded and drew his wand, waving it over the floor and murmuring, " _Yfidilos_."

A glimmer spread outwards from the base of the pedestal. The next peppermint toad bounced off it and Flamel scurried to pick it up and pop it back in his pocket before moving to the pedestal. "Now I just need to remove the—"

The door burst open. They spun towards it, and McGonagall had just enough time to gape at Quirrell before he flicked his wand at her and ropes appeared from thin air to bind around her from neck to ankle, overbalancing her to send her toppling to the floor.

"Quirenus! What on earth are you doing?"

"Shut up, Minerva," he replied coolly, shocking her into silence. He didn't even look at her, gaze and wand fixed on Flamel. "Pick up the Stone."

Flamel didn't move, wand hanging down by his side. "You're the thief?"

"Pick it up, old man. Don't make me ask again."

"You pick it up."

"I'm not that foolish. It's your stone and Dumbledore's damned protections. You will pick it up and then pass it to me. Now!"

"No."

Quirrell's face twisted with anger, then: " _Crucio!_ "

Flamel crumpled, screaming. McGonagall shrieked a protest, squirming in her bonds, but they were too tight to break free from. Quirrell, without taking his wand from Flamel, moved forwards to stand over the screaming man, a horrible expression of cruel pleasure on his face as he watched Flamel scream and writhe.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Quirrell's wand leapt out of his hand and into the outstretched palm floating just over McGonagall. Flamel stopped screaming but didn't get up, taking a few shaky breaths and then laughing weakly. As McGonagall and Quirrell stared at the floating forearm, something slid back to reveal the rest of the arm, the shoulder it was attached to, and then all at once the head and body of Albus Dumbledore. The Invisibility Cloak pooled at his feet and in his other hand he held his own wand, which he flicked at McGonagall, banishing the ropes binding her. Instantly she got to her feet, drawing her own wand and pointing it at Quirrell, although her eyes kept darting to Dumbledore.

"Nicolas, are you alright?"

"Oh yes, just _wonderful_ , Albus," he said sarcastically, but there was a smile on his face and he got up, picking up the wand he dropped when the Cruciatus Curse hit him.

"Minerva, you're unharmed?"

"Yes, thank you. Albus, what are you doing here?"

"I snuck in behind Nicolas. I feared the thief would take advantage of my absence and attempt something when he realised that the Stone was being removed. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Quirenus?"

Quirrell's tongue darted out to wet his lips and he glanced between the three, fingers twitching as though acutely aware of the wand they no longer held. When he spoke, McGonagall had no idea what he meant.

"Master… help me!"

He was staring at Dumbledore, and McGonagall wondered if he was meant to be 'master', but then to her shock another voice came from Quirrell although his mouth didn't move.

"Fool! Utter incompetent!"

McGonagall's first thought was a Ventriloquism Charm, but Dumbledore sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening slightly, and Flamel frowned, cocking his head and peering oddly at Quirrell's turban.

"Young man, your turban appears to be insulting you."

"Take it off, Quirenus," Dumbledore ordered. Quirrell obeyed, slowly lifting his hands and unwinding the purple cloth then letting it drop. Flamel, the only one with a view of the back of Quirrell's head, gasped and took a step back, almost walking into the pedestal with the Stone.

"Turn around."

Again, slowly, Quirrell obeyed. McGonagall couldn't help uttering a small scream when she saw the face sticking out the back of his bald head. There were just some things that even a lifetime of magic couldn't prepare you for, and seeing a pair of red eyes glaring out the back of her colleague's head was one of those things. Two slits for nostrils were set beneath them, and a long thin mouth that twisted into a snarl as the eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"This isn't the end, Dumbledore!" it cried, and Quirrell jerked. He seemed to be having some sort of seizure, struggling to stay upright, and his mouth—his real mouth—opened in a scream. A strange substance poured out, like smoke made of oil, amassed around Quirrell's feet, and then gushed towards the door. Dumbledore cast a spell, but whatever it was meant to do didn't work and the oily smoke burst through the wood and vanished.

"Dumbledore, what… should we go after it?" McGonagall asked

Dumbledore shook his head, stowing his wand and moving towards Quirrell, who'd stopped trembling and collapsed, moaning. "We cannot catch him, and he will not stay in the castle, I am sure of that."

"Him?"

He paused to glance around solemnly. "Lord Voldemort."

She gasped, eyes going wide as they dropped down to Quirrell. He had been possessed?

Dumbledore crouched by the fallen man. "Quirenus, can you speak?"

Quirrell coughed and made no move to get up, but he nodded.

"Where is Gareth?"

"T-troll," Quirrell mumbled. It wasn't the high-pitched stutter of before, just the weak voice of a strained man.

"Minerva—"

"On it."

She hurried out, wand in hand just in case the substance—Voldemort—was lingering in the room beyond, but it was empty and she went cautiously into the next chamber. The troll was dead, decapitated, and Gareth was slumped on the floor, back to the wall, just conscious enough to grin woozily at her when she crouched by him. Blood coated his face, dripping from a gash along his hairline and spilling from his mouth and nose, his left arm lay limp and useless, and there was a bone sticking through his right calf.

"Minnie… nice—ow—nice to see you."

"Gareth, if you call me that again I shan't take you to the Hospital Wing."

"Bullshit. You're too nice, Min-" He must have caught a glimpse of her expression because his tone shifted mid-word and he finished "-erva."

"That's better."

He grinned again, then grimaced. "Did you stop him?"

"Yes. I don't know what'll happen to him now, but he's not a threat anymore."

"Oh, good," Gareth mumbled, and then passed out.

* * *

When Harry and the two prefects found Gareth's office empty and got no response when they knocked on his personal quarters, the prefects argued over what to do next, tried to get Harry to share what information he had, and, when he refused but vigorously insisted it was vitally important, eventually decided that they would go and see Professor McGonagall.

But halfway up to her office they met with Professor Flitwick on his rounds. Teacher and prefect patrols had been vastly increased along with the increased restrictions so it was no surprise they ran into a teacher. When he asked what they were doing and they told him they wanted to see McGonagall, he informed them she was busy with an urgent matter and, as acting Deputy Headmaster, he would deal with anything they needed.

"Potter, claims to have information about the Heir of Slytherin, sir," Lisa Patterson told him. Flitwick looked at Harry expectantly.

"Um…" He glanced at the two prefects and Flitwick seemed to guess his concern because he dismissed the pair and took Harry up to his office on the seventh floor. Harry was reluctant to tell him what he knew, unsure that he'd be believed, but he reminded himself that Flitwick had always been nice to him and as a Hogwarts teacher he should be trustworthy. So he explained about the voice he heard, how he'd discovered it was a snake, and why he now believed it to be a basilisk specifically. Flitwick listened without interrupting, looking more and more concerned as Harry went on.

"This is very grave indeed," he said when Harry finished. "Most unsettling, but I do believe you're right and if you are, you've just helped the school a great deal. If the monster is a basilisk, we know now how to kill it."

"The rooster's crow?"

Flitwick nodded. "That's right, Mr Potter-Valentine. I'll escort you down to Slytherin and then take this information to the rest of the staff. But before we go…" He found a bit of parchment on his desk and scribbled a quick note on it, then drew his wand and waved it. A handheld mirror appeared on his desk. "It wouldn't do to be caught out by Slytherin's Heir just when we've figured out what the monster is. If we do come across it, this will ensure we're not killed," he said, gesturing to the mirror, and then at the note, "and this will ensure the information isn't trapped in our petrified minds. Oh, and fifty points to Slytherin."

Just as they left, a sudden sharp pain lanced through Harry's lightning bolt scar and he clapped his hands to his forehead, hissing in a sharp breath. It felt like someone had pressed a hot wire to his skin.

"Mr Potter-Valentine? What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, clenching his teeth and trying not to cry, and the pain eased soon after. He lowered his hands, breathing a little hard, and tried to smile reassuringly at Flitwick, though it came out as more of a grimace.

"Headache, that's all."

Flitwick didn't look convinced, but Harry didn't want to say that he was getting pains in the scar from when Voldemort tried to kill him. It struck him as a very strange thing to happen; he knew it would sound stranger to say aloud.

"I'll be fine, sir. I think I just need a headache potion."

Flitwick nodded and said they could stop by the Hospital Wing on the way to Slytherin. Using the mirror to look around corners, they headed back down, but at the third floor they ran into McGonagall coming out of the forbidden corridor, her wand guiding a stretcher upon which lay a bloodied and beaten Gareth. That alone was enough to stop Flitwick and Harry, Harry crying Gareth's name and rushing forwards to look at him, but McGonagall was followed by Nicolas Flamel, another stretcher baring an unconscious Quirrell, and Dumbledore.

"Headmaster!" Flitwick said in surprise.

"Filius, I'm glad to see you, and Harry, too. I have discovered the location of the Chamber of Secrets and I will need Harry's help accessing it. Filius, can you take over Quirenus for me and accompany Minerva to the Hospital Wing. Nicolas—"

"I'm coming with you, Albus."

"Alright. Harry, would you please come with Nicolas and me. I will be in need of a Parselmouth."

"Albus, wait!" Flitwick cried, because Dumbledore was already moving to head on. "The monster in the Chamber is a basilisk!"

Everyone except Harry stared at him.

"How on earth do you know that?" McGonagall asked. Flitwick gestured to Harry.

"Mr Potter-Valentine has been hearing a snake's voice on the nights of the attacks and he realised that a basilisk's stare would only petrify if seen in a reflection or through a ghost."

"Merlin's beard," breathed Flamel, and his horror at the idea of a basilisk roaming the school was reflected on McGonagall's face. Dumbledore, by contrast, looked delighted.

"Thank you, Harry. You may have just saved a great many people, including myself. Filius, Minerva, when you've dropped Gareth and Quirenus at the Hospital Wing, tell the rest of the staff and round up the prefects. Find some roosters and go through the whole school, towers to dungeons."

Dumbledore transfigured two of Flamel's peppermint toads into roosters and the two groups went their separate ways, the birds bobbing along with them and crowing loudly, ensuring that any basilisk would be dead before the humans came eye to eye with it. As Harry, Dumbledore, and Flamel hurried down to the second floor, Harry asked Dumbledore, "Sir, what happened to Gar- I mean, Professor Martin?"

"He had an unfortunate encounter with a troll, but he will be fine, I assure you. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix him up in a splash. Here we are."

Harry jerked to a stop at the door Dumbledore gestured to. "Er, I don't think I'm allowed in there."

Dumbledore knocked firmly on the door and said loudly, "Is there anyone in there?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then Harry jumped when a ghost girl's head stuck through the door, hair tied in pigtails and eyes glowering from behind her large glasses. "What do you want?" she asked sullenly.

"To have a look around your bathroom, Myrtle," Dumbledore told her. "May we come in?"

"I suppose," she said, "but only because you're the headmaster."

"Thank you very much."

Myrtle pulled back. Dumbledore pushed the door open and swept inside, moving immediately to the sink at the far end and bending to inspect it closely. Harry had no idea what he was looking for or what this bathroom had to do with the Chamber of Secrets.

"Aha. Harry, here, do you see?"

He moved forwards. Dumbledore pointed to a small snake etched into the side of one of the taps. "What's that for?"

"A mark. This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

" _What?_ In a girls' bathroom?"

"Not originally. Parts of the castle were completely refurbished when modern plumbing was installed, and I do believe this etching, and the cleverly subtle enchantment, wasn't put here when this bathroom was installed, but added later. Now, if you could just command it to open, in Parseltongue, please…"

Not entirely convinced Dumbledore hadn't gone mad, Harry focused on the snake and hissed, " _Open_."

With a great creaking groan, the sink sank out of sight to reveal a large exposed pipe, large enough for a man to slide down.

"Holy crap, you were right! Oops, sorry, sir."

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Quite alright, Harry. Technically I'm still suspended, so feel free to swear as much as you please with no fear of punishment. Nicolas, could I trouble you for a peppermint toad?"

Flamel pulled one from his pocket. Dumbledore took it and transfigured it into a second rooster who immediately crowed loudly and began puffing itself up before the first one. Dumbledore picked it up before they could start fighting.

"Right then… Harry, you had best stay here. Nicolas, do you mind staying with him?"

Flamel frowned. "You're going down alone?"

"I have protection, and I cannot in good conscience leave Harry alone nor take him down."

"You're making up excuses, Albus," Flamel said, but he made no further arguments. Securing his grip on the rooster, Dumbledore climbed feet-first into the pipe and slid away. They heard the echo of the rooster's unhappy crow as they went, then a minute or so later a faint, distant clatter. Flamel stepped up to the pipe and stuck his head in it.

"Albus?"

"I'm fine, Nicolas. I will be back soon."

Flamel gave a disgruntled huff but pulled his head back and turned to Harry. For a moment neither of them spoke, the only noise being the crowing of the rooster left with them, and then Flamel pulled out a couple more peppermint toads and offered one to Harry, who accepted.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked after eating his own toad, patting his tummy as it started hopping about inside. "I haven't see you and Tori in a while."

"I'm good, thanks, Mr Flamel."

"Good, good. And how are Gabriel and Lorna? Officially your parents now, aren't they?"

Harry nodded, unable to keep from smiling. "Yeah, they adopted me and Tori officially last winter. And they're good, too."

"Glad to hear it. I really must visit sometime soon. Very soon," he amended with a slight sigh. Something must have shown on Harry's face because he elaborated, "I may not be around for much longer, Harry."

"What do you mean? Are you moving to a different country?"

"No, no, but I'm beginning to think it's time I went on that next great adventure."

"What adventure's that?" Harry asked, intrigued, but couldn't help rearing back at Flamel's answer.

"Death."

" _What?_ But you're Nicolas Flamel! You've got the Philosopher's Stone, you can't die! And death isn't an adventure."

"To the young, perhaps not, but you'll look on it differently when you're my age. Well, Albus' age."

"I'll never be that old. Gabriel said he'll turn me and Tori when we're twenty-one. I'm going to live forever."

He very carefully didn't think about demons and hellhounds. Until he had a chance to investigate further, he wasn't going to depress himself with thoughts of dying at seventeen.

"Ahh, even many vampires eventually seek death, Harry. Surely you know that. Someone of Gabriel's age is uncommon."

"Do you _want_ to die?" Harry asked, wondering how anyone could.

"I am not afraid to die," Flamel answered. "I am not afraid of what comes next. And if my death stops someone like Voldemort from getting his hands on the Stone then I am willing to die."

Harry, who'd grimaced at Voldemort's name, asked, "Why would you dying stop him getting it?"

"I would destroy it. Voldemort came far too close today to stealing it. I cannot risk that again, but of course I'll need to discuss—"

"Wait, the Dark Lord tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone _today_?"

Flamel nodded solemnly. "He was possessing young Quirenus Quirrell, your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—quite the irony, that—and he accompanied myself, Minerva—that is, Professor McGonagall—and Gareth—Professor Martin—down to collect the Stone. Albus and I feared Voldemort would try something with Albus suspended, but we hadn't quite expected _that_. Very fortunate that Albus insisted on accompanying me to the school under that Invisibility Cloak."

"What happened?" Harry asked, shocked at what he was hearing and eager to hear the whole story. "Is Professor Quirrell still possessed?"

"No, Voldemort fled when he realised how out-powered he was. Once we reached the stone, Quirenus left Gareth to fend off a troll and attacked myself and Minerva, but when Albus showed himself Voldemort revealed himself and dispossessed the man to flee. Left poor Quirenus in quite the state, but I think he'll pull through, and he managed to tell us about the Chamber of Secrets. He also admitted to using the Imperius Curse on one of the students to try and murder you. Something about pushing you over a Quidditch stand?"

"I told them I was pushed!" Harry cried, but his triumph was muted somewhat with the knowledge that whoever pushed him had been forced to do it. "So you saved the Stone?"

Flamel nodded, looked around carefully, and drew from his pocket a roughly cut red stone about the size of a pear.

"Wow… Tori's going to be so jealous when I tell her about this. She figured out this is what was hidden on the third floor," he explained when Flamel glanced at him questioningly, "and that someone was trying to steal it. She wanted to catch the thief for you."

Flamel laughed, a rich hearty sound that made his whole body quiver. "What a vivacious child!"

"Nicolas! Harry!"

Flamel stuffed the stone back in his pocket and stuck his head in the pipe. "Albus?"

"I'm terribly sorry, but it seems I need Harry again. Would you both mind coming down?"

Flamel looked to Harry, who nodded hesitantly, then shouted, "Coming right down."

He pulled back and gestured for Harry to go first. Harry slid his legs into the pipe, but held onto the edges.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir? Is the basilisk dead?"

"I'm afraid I cannot know for certain until I find a body, but this rooster is crowing quite loudly so I certainly expect the basilisk to be dead."

Figuring that was the best he could hope for, Harry took a deep breath and pushed himself forwards. It was dark, wet, and slimy, and far too long before he slid out onto a damp floor. Dumbledore helped Harry to his feet and gave him a jar with a bluebell flame in it, the only light in the dark tunnel. A minute later, Flamel came sliding out the pipe, the second rooster clutched in his arms. He accepted Dumbledore's helping hand as well, grinning.

"What a ride, eh? Must be a good mile or more under the school."

"Under the lake, I think," Dumbledore agreed. "This way."

The tunnel was long and dark, the floor littered with small animal bones, and they passed a massive snake skin. Eventually they came to a large round door with snakes carved into it, the eyes inlaid with emeralds. At an encouraging nod from Dumbledore, Harry once again hissed for it to open. The headmaster sent in the roosters first, both crowing loudly in challenge at each other, and when there was no sign of anything else in the chamber Dumbledore went in after them, Flamel and Harry close behind.

It was, Harry decided, a bit anticlimactic. The chamber was long and tall, dimly lit with an eerie green light, the whole place just as cold and damp as the tunnel outside, and at the end was a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin. It was here that they found the basilisk, slumped half out of the statue's open mouth. Dumbledore made Harry stay back as he and Flamel crept closer, wands held out, but the snake was dead and they let him come forward to stare curiously as Dumbledore waved his wand to bring it sliding down to the floor.

"It's _huge_ ," he breathed. "How could anyone control that?"

"The bond between a wizard and a magical familiar can be very strong," Flamel said, un-transfiguring the roosters, which left the chamber oddly silent, their voices echoing slightly, "and more so between Parselmouths and their serpents. Any idea who the Heir is, Albus?"

"Oh, I know who the Heir is," Dumbledore said lightly, "I merely haven't figured out how he has been doing all this."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Who is it?"

"Voldemort. He is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin."

"Then Quirrell…?"

Dumbledore shook his head, glancing with mild disapproval at Flamel, who looked back with a nonchalant smile. "No, Professor Quirrell admitted that whilst he was possessed, Voldemort did not open the Chamber of Secrets and was quite upset that someone else _did_. He did fear it might be you, Harry, but we both know that isn't true."

Harry couldn't help the breath of relief at that. Dumbledore might not be headmaster right now, but he was still Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. If Dumbledore had thought him guilty, Harry would have been doomed.

"So we don't know who has been setting the basilisk loose," Flamel summarised. "At least we've dealt with their primary weapon, but how do you plan to figure out who it is?"

Dumbledore didn't have an answer for that. He set about exploring the chamber, looking for clues, while Harry went on examining the basilisk corpse.

"Worth a fortune, you know," Flamel remarked to him. "Useful for potions and alchemy, basilisk scales and venom, but very hard to come by. It'll have to be harvested soon, though, before it starts to decompose."

Dumbledore finished his explorations, finding nothing, and they headed back out. At the base of the pipe from the bathroom, Dumbledore called "Fawkes!" and with a burst of flame a brilliant red and gold bird appeared.

"Is that a phoenix?" Harry asked, awed.

"My very own," Dumbledore said proudly. "Harry, meet Fawkes. Fawkes, Harry. Would you mind carrying us all up this pipe?"

Fawkes positioned himself at the start of the pipe and waited for Dumbledore to grab his tail feathers, then Flamel grabbed Dumbledore's arm and Harry grabbed Flamel's, and the bird lifted all three of them out as if they weighed no more than a bag of sugar.

Back in the bathroom, Harry hissed at the sink to close it up again, then Dumbledore spoke to him.

"Take fifty points to Slytherin, Harry, for helping so much in discovering the monster. You should also take this."

He pulled a slivery cloak from his pocket, which must have been enchanted to be bigger on the inside, and handed it over to a frowning Harry.

"This was your father's—your birth father's," Dumbledore explained, much to Harry's surprise. "I borrowed it from him shortly before he died, and it is time it was returned to you. Do try it on when you get back to Slytherin; I think it will suit you a great deal."

There was a strange twinkle in his eye when he said this, but he would explain nothing more and dismissed Harry back to Slytherin, alone now that there was no longer risk from a monster.

Despite it being past ten o'clock, the castle was filled with noise, rooster crows filling the halls so loudly that all the students were still awake when Harry got back to Slytherin. Many looked surprised to see him, and some disappointed, and they all demanded to know what was going on. All but one of the prefects had been pulled out to help with the roosters, and no one knew why the castle was so noisy, but they listened as he told them everything about the basilisk, the chamber, and why their Head of House was in the Hospital Wing.

Only afterwards did he wonder if he should have kept the story about Quirrell to himself, but by then it was too late so he shrugged it off and excused himself to his dorm. A few people expressed disbelief or scepticism about his involvement with the basilisk, but most people agreed that if he was the Heir of Slytherin then he wouldn't have revealed what the monster was. The hundred house points he'd earnt helped his standing, too.

Curious about the cloak, Harry tried it on as soon as he was alone, and the moment he did his body vanished out of sight. Heart racing with excitement, he rushed to the full length mirror in the room and stared delightedly at his reflection—or lack thereof. He was nothing more than a head floating in mid-air. An Invisibility Cloak! Tori would be beside herself with jealousy. He didn't even care that he could cast spells to make himself invisible; something about having a cloak was much more exciting.

Somehow, by morning, the whole school knew about everything—Quirrell and Voldemort, the Philosopher's Stone, the dead basilisk. Dumbledore was re-instated as headmaster, Lucius Malfoy was sacked as a governor, and Quirrell was facing criminal charges for attempted grand larceny and the use of an Unforgivable Curse. Dumbledore was covering his classes until a new teacher was hired. Some people remained concerned about the fact that the actual Heir of Slytherin hadn't been discovered, but the staff considered him no longer a threat and all the restrictions were removed. They asked for anyone with any information to please come forward, but most expectations were for the petrified victims to say who was controlling the basilisk.

Gareth was in the Hospital Wing for several days, giving them free periods for the Potion lessons, but as there was trouble in getting the mandrakes this was no detriment to the petrified victims. The original supplier found his crop mangled by dugbogs and as mandrakes weren't in season—planted crops were still only in their early teens at this time of the year—only specialists would go to the effort of making the right conditions to grow them out of season, so it was hard to find some ripe, adult specimens.

So for the next few weeks, life at Hogwarts was back to normal. Harry used his new cloak to explore the castle after hours, occasionally inviting Tori out with him. He considered telling Anita, but he was still smarting over the fact that she hadn't believed he was innocent of the basilisk attacks. Tori was predictably jealous, complaining that it was unfair Harry had the cloak on top of knowing the Invisibility Spell.

Draco, who was rather subdued since the revelation of his father's expulsion from the board of governors, stopped trying to hang around Harry, but Harry caught him watching him sometimes still. Harry did his best to ignore him. If Draco thought they had created some kind of connection during the time that everyone else ignored Harry, he was sorely mistaken.

December brought snow, Tori's birthday on the second, and a Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff on the first Saturday, which Hufflepuff won. Gareth came around Slytherin with a list the next day for anyone staying at Hogwarts over the holidays to add their name to. A lot of people had been talking of going home when the basilisk was about, but with the threat gone minds changed and a number of students added their name to the list. Harry didn't, but Theo and Draco both did, the only first years choosing to stay behind. Harry wasn't surprised by Theo's choice—he made no secret of his dislike of his home—but Draco talked about his father with great reverence, so Harry was surprised he chose to stay behind.

On the final day of term, Dumbledore stood up at breakfast to announce that they finally had some mandrakes and potion classes would be cancelled for the day so Gareth could brew the Restorative Draught. This gave Slytherin and Gryffindor the afternoon off and they spent it outside having a snowball fight. It started innocently enough when Anita threw one at Harry after lunch.

"What was that for?" Harry asked indignantly, rubbing snow from his hair.

"You haven't spoken to me in ages."

"You didn't believe me about not being the Heir of Slytherin. Besides, you seem to be friends with Hermione now."

"She's not been so bad since I saved her from the troll. And I'm sorry, but all the evidence suggested you were."

"That's a crappy apology," he told her, and threw a snowball back. They were soon tossing snow back and forth and several others from their class joined in, but then people started using spells to enhance the distance and speed of their snowballs and it eventually dissolved into an eight-person duel that lost both houses twenty points when the teachers finally broke it up.

Harry finished up his packing that evening and went to bed looking forward to getting home the next day. It would be nice to see his parents and Jennifer and just spend a couple of weeks relaxing. But late that night he woke abruptly to a hand on his shoulder and a dark-haired older student bent over him.

"Wha'? Who are you?" he asked sleepily, sitting up.

"Sixth year prefect," the boy answered softly. "I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"It's your sister. She's been injured."

Harry scrambled out of bed before the boy even finished talking, grabbing the jumper he'd laid out for the next day and pulling it on over his pyjamas as he stepped into his trainers, then grabbed his wand and flicked it at his feet to make the laces do themselves up. "What happened?" he demanded as he followed the boy out the room. "Is she alright?"

"Everything will be explained when we get there."

They hurried out of Slytherin and up through the castle, but at the Entrance Hall, instead of going up the marble staircase to the Hospital Wing, the prefect turned to the main doors.

"Where are you going?"

"She's outside, near the forest. They didn't want to move her."

Harry's stomach lurched. How badly was she injured? What had she even been doing outside so late at night?

The prefect didn't answer any of his questions, just led him quickly across the grounds to the forest, Lumos-lit wand guiding their way between the trees a short way to a small clearing.

"Where is she?" Harry demanded, his own wand lit, moving around in search of Tori, but there was no sign of her or any teachers, and when the prefect didn't answer he began to realise that he'd been lied to. He turned to face him again, but the boy had moved and Harry whirled, trying to seek him out. The moon was nearly full, gleaming down into the clearing bright enough to make his Lumos almost redundant. "What's going—"

He caught a glimpse of movement on his left and turned, the light on his wand going out with a slight flick of his wrist so that he could conjure a shield instead, but he was too slow. He heard no spell cast, but his wand jerked from his fingers of its own accord and then a blast of red light knocked him off his feet and into a tree trunk. Vines whipped up from the ground to lash around him, binding him to the tree from shoulder to ankle, strong and firm and resistant to his struggling.

A small light shone in the darkness ahead and the prefect approached him, smiling. Despite his handsome face, the smile was in no way comforting. Staring at him, it only now occurred to Harry that he didn't think he'd ever seen the boy around Slytherin before and he was pretty sure he could bring to mind all three of the male Slytherin prefects.

"Who are you? Let me go!"

"No. Not until you and I have had a little chat, Harry."

"About what?"

He had Harry's wand in his right hand, his own gripped in his left, and he raised Harry's and brushed the hair away from his forehead to trace the tip along the lightning bolt scar. "Tell me how you did it."

"Did what?"

" _Survived_ ," the boy said, almost hissing the word, jerking Harry's wand down and thrusting it into his pocket. "How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

A shiver ran down Harry's spine. Very few people spoke Voldemort's name aloud. Even Gabriel and Lorna rarely said it, generally referring to him as the Dark Lord, although Gabriel always said it with a disdainful lilt to his voice.

"I don't know," Harry answered honestly. "What do you care anyway?"

The boy smiled again. "Because Voldemort is my past, present, and future. You're confused, I understand, so let me explain. My name is Tom Riddle. Fifty years ago I was a student at Hogwarts. I kept a diary of my time there, a very special diary that I poured a little bit of my soul into. You see, _I'm_ the Heir of Slytherin, but I was forced to stop my work and I wanted to make sure that one day I would be able to lead another in my footsteps."

"I don't understand. How could you have been a student fifty years ago? You're only sixteen."

"The diary, Harry. _Please_ pay attention," he said, and started to pace in front of Harry. "You see, many months ago Draco Malfoy found it and began writing it in. Poor little Draco who felt so alone since his mother was imprisoned, who was so afraid of disappointing his father and shaming the family name further, who just wanted someone to talk to and _understand_ … and that's what I did. I listened as he poured his soul out to me. For months I have been his closest friend, his only confidante, and by the time he started at Hogwarts, he had fed so much of himself into me that I was able to feed a little of myself into _him_ …"

"You made him open the Chamber of Secrets," Harry realised. "But Malfoy's not a Parselmouth."

"He didn't have to be. _I_ am, and I was working through him. He wasn't even fully aware of what he was doing—in a kind of trance, you could say. He began to get suspicious, of course, realising that there were blank spots in his memory, but he was too scared to say anything to anyone other than me. _They'll throw me out if they know it's me. They'll arrest me. But it's right, isn't it, Tom? They're only Mudbloods, they deserve everything that they get, don't they, Tom?_ Of course it was, I told him. Strange," he mused, pausing in his pacing, "to hear a Malfoy doubtful about attacking Mudbloods; they're famous for their stance on blood purity."

He shrugged, smiling faintly. "But it didn't matter. Whatever Draco's hesitation was, he couldn't fight me, and by the time he realised that I was the one behind it all, my basilisk was dead. He thought that was it—it was over and I would be just a diary for him to talk to again. But I had come too far to give up, even after you killed my basilisk—"

"I didn't kill it," Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore did."

"You told them about it," Riddle snapped, turning an angry glare on him. "You figured it out and told everyone what was roaming the castle. I knew, then, that I had to meet you. Draco had put so much of himself into me that I was able to leave the pages. He was so impressed by me. It was a bit pathetic really, but he is no concern any more. _You_ have my full attention."

"Why? What do you want with me? And you haven't explained what you meant when you said Voldemort is your past, present, and future."

Another smile, this one somehow more unpleasant than his last one. He raised his wand and with several sharp motions he drew a series of shimmering letters in the air.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Another flick of the wand and the letters rearranged themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Harry gaped. "You're… _you're_ the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. It was a name I was already using in school. Did you think I would keep my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"Wait, a Muggle? Your father was a Muggle? The Dark Lord is a _half-blood_?"

He couldn't help it, he laughed. There wasn't much humour in the laugh, but it was too ironic. The man famous for espousing pureblood ideals had a Muggle father.

Riddle ground his teeth. "You find that amusing?"

"That the Dark Lord is a _halfie_? I think it's hilarious and I'm going to tell everyone. I'm going to make sure all the Death Eaters know that they were following a half-blood."

"You'll tell no one anything, Harry, because you won't live to see the sun rise. How long you will live depends on what you tell me. How did you survive my attack?"

"I don't know," Harry told him again. "I don't think anyone knows. Why did you try to kill me in the first place?"

Irritation flickered across Riddle's face. "I don't know," he admitted with obvious reluctance. "Of my future, I only know what Draco has told me. I'm sure my older self will tell me when I drag your lifeless body to him. Then tell me this, Harry—how is it a child barely past his eleventh birthday is capable of so many powerful spells? Draco told me all about it," Riddle went on when Harry said nothing. "He couldn't shut up about you. He was so pathetically jealous of your skill and so desperate to get your attention but he had no idea how to go about it. _Harry Potter hates me, Tom… I don't know why, but he barely even looks at me… how do I get him to like me, Tom?_ It was very tiresome."

"You should have told him to try being nicer to people," Harry said, but he felt a twist in his gut that he didn't like. Draco had tried to be nice to him, sort of. He'd believed Harry about the basilisk attacks—of course, that was because he knew who the true culprit was—but even so he'd kept trying to get Harry's attention. Had he been trying to tell Harry about Riddle? He couldn't think why Draco would choose him, of all people, to tell about the diary, but it would explain why he'd spent several weeks looking on the brink of blurting out some secret. And whatever else Harry thought of him, the idea of him scribbling away to Riddle for months, of being possessed and controlled and manipulated by the teenage Lord Voldemort… Harry didn't think anyone deserved that.

"So he could make friends?" Riddle scoffed. "That's the last thing I wanted, Harry. I needed him isolated. I needed to be the only person he could come to so he would keep pouring out his soul to me. His soul gave me power. You still haven't answered my question: how can a child so young know so much magic?"

"I had a really good tutor."

"Don't lie to me, Harry. You don't want to make an enemy of me."

"Seems like I already have," Harry pointed out. He felt brash, reckless. He was wandless and trapped and he should be afraid but he wasn't. He couldn't be. He'd been afraid before and he didn't ever want to be again, so he wouldn't let himself even if it meant being stupidly brave. "You draw me out of bed, attack me, threaten me. You want to kill me, don't you? Just like your older self. Is that why? Do you want to kill me just because he tried?"

"That, and you're a threat to me and my older self; whatever his reason for attacking you, he murdered your parents and for that you'll always want to avenge them. In killing you, I will be fulfilling his want and protecting us both from your revenge."

He smiled his cruel smile again. "Oh, and I'll be taking my own revenge. You killed my pet and put a stop to my efforts at cleaning this school of filth. Of course, in the name of fairness…" He reached into his pocket and drew out something long and thin, and Harry gasped as the light shone on Samantha's limp body, "… I'll have to kill your pet too."

* * *

The Grey Lady was the one to tell them. Ned Barrows and Tracey Davis hadn't seen the Heir, all their attention fixed on the snake. Only The Grey Lady had noticed Draco Malfoy standing beyond it with a dead-eyed stare and a blank expression.

Gareth and Dumbledore headed straight down to Slytherin from the Hospital Wing, both men tense as they stalked through the corridors, silent save for their robes flapping about their ankles. There was no one still up in the Slytherin common room and they moved quickly on to the boys' dorms. When Dumbledore flicked his wand to light the candles in the first years' dorm, Theo and Blaise jerked awake, the former instantly snatching up his wand while the latter blinked a few times, confused. Crabbe and Goyle kept on sleeping. Gareth went straight to Draco's bed, jerking open the curtains and—

"No!"

The word came out as a hoarse whisper and Dumbledore was by his side in an instant. Gareth bent, urgently pressing his fingers to Draco's throat. He didn't need to say what he found—or didn't find. His suddenly pale face and trembling hand said everything. Dumbledore grabbed Draco's wrist, searching for a pulse himself, but there was no throbbing of blood under his fingers and Draco's skin was already cold.

"What's going on?" Theo asked, still holding his wand as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Don't approach," Dumbledore said, not sharp but firm enough that Theo didn't consider disobeying. Dumbledore closed Draco's eyelids, hiding his lifeless grey eyes, and then picked up the thin black diary resting beside him, hissing in a sharp breath when he opened the first page and saw the name written inside.

"Albus."

Dumbledore turned. Gareth had moved to Harry's bed, which was empty, the covers thrown back in a hurry. Gareth turned away from them to look at Dumbledore and his expression stopped the Headmaster from even starting to issue orders on their next course of action. Gareth did so instead.

"Tell Poppy to prepare for a severe injury—blood loss, tendon damage, magically inflicted—and prep a bed with magic inhibiting restraints. The strongest you can."

He turned on his heel and stalked to the door.

"Gareth, what are you doing?"

"Interfering," Gareth's reply came back, and then he was gone.

* * *

"You leave her alone!" Harry screamed, squirming in his bonds and wishing he could claw the smile off Riddle's face.

"Why should I? You murdered my pet; I'm going to murder yours."

He flicked out the light on his wand and pointed the tip at Samantha's head. Harry wanted to scream and struggle, but he knew it was useless and his mind was providing a number of much better suggestions. He'd dealt with a demon for every spell in the world and the ability to never forget them, and right now he was getting his soul's worth. He might not have a wand, but not every spell needed one. It was just a matter of focus…

The grass at Riddle's feet was damp, but magic didn't care about little things like wet fuel. Harry focused hard, muttered, " _Incendio_ ," and fire burst up around Riddle's feet. He yelped and leapt away, dropping Samantha in the process, and Harry heard the light thump of her body hit the floor. He hoped she was okay.

Riddle flicked his wand and the flames vanished. He turned on Harry, smile gone and face twisted with anger. "You want to play with fire, Harry? Fine, let's see how you like it at _your_ feet."

He waved his wand and new flames sprung up, this time at the base of the tree Harry was tied to, instantly licking at his feet. Hot air gushed up to his face, making him turn his head away and close his eyes, and his feet kicked, vainly trying to escape the fire. Already he could smell his trainers burning and the heat was growing painful on his feet and ankles.

" _Inalgesco!_ " he cried, a hint of desperation to his voice. Nothing happened. The Flame-Freezing Charm was meant to cause a harmless tickling sensation, used often by wizards who were caught during the witch trials. " _Inalgesco! Inalgesco! Inalgesco!_ "

"Don't bother, Harry," Riddle said, smiling again now, the flickering flames making his eyes seem to glow red in the darkness. "That spell won't work on magical fire. Clearly you're not quite as smart as you proclaim to be."

" _Aquamenti!_ " Harry tried instead, but that wasn't one meant to be cast wandlessly and nothing happened. He tried a few others, all useless, until the heat became too much and he stopped screaming spells to just scream in pain. The flames were up to his knees now and the rope burned away, but his upper body was still bound so he was still trapped, his legs in agony. Riddle watched, smiling the whole time, as if Harry was just a Guy Fawkes doll on a fifth of November bonfire.

Then a new figure stepped into the clearing. Harry only half paid attention to them, mind too focused on the pain to really understand what was happening, but he saw them gesture at the flames and then, when nothing happened, at Riddle, whose smile vanished as a blank look came over his face and he lifted his wand. With a wave, the flames vanished. The pain in Harry's legs didn't stop, but it eased just enough for him to stop screaming, going slack within his bonds and whimpering slightly. He could feel tears running down his cheeks.

Riddle collapsed, unconscious. The figure approached and as the moonlight hit them Harry saw it was Gareth. He tried to smile at Harry, but it came out as a grimace and as he got closer Harry saw that, most peculiarly, Gareth's right hand held a quill and manically wrote on a stiff bit of parchment that floated along with him, while his left was a bloody mess, the back of it mangled by cuts and dripping blood onto the grass. Despite this, he still banished the vines holding Harry, conjured a stretcher, and levitated him onto it. He made another for Riddle, and started to take them both out the forest, but Harry cried out, "Samantha! She's here, don't leave her!"

Gareth paused, looking around, then darted away and came back with the snake, settling her on the stretcher beside Harry. He let out a small sigh of relief when he felt a tongue flick against his hand. He wanted to ask Gareth why he was scribbling at the bit of parchment and what happened to his hand, but the movement of the stretcher and the pain in his legs jarred him and he passed out before he could even say thank you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Blood, burnt flesh, and death. It was the first thing Gabriel and Lorna noticed when McGonagall escorted them into the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. The vampires' nature drew their attention to the blood first, eyes going to where Gareth Martin sat on a bed, left hand badly but heavily wrapped in bandages whilst the other, oddly enough, was handcuffed to the bedframe.

In the bed next to him lay Harry, unconscious, his trousers cut away so Madam Pomfrey could work at the burns on his feet and lower legs. It wasn't pretty; the skin was seared and blistered, bits of fabric from his trousers were burnt into his legs, and his trainers were completely melted into his feet.

It took effort for Gabriel and Lorna to walk up to the bed at a human pace, so as not to appear at Harry's bedside suddenly and risk startling the healer while she worked. She didn't even glance up to see who had come, just snapped, "Don't block my light."

Gabriel turned on Gareth. "What happened?"

All McGonagall had told them before they insisted on coming to the school was that Harry had been injured, another student killed, and the perpetrator caught. Gabriel wanted to ask if the older teen lying unconscious and restrained in a bed on the other side of the ward was responsible, but he didn't quite trust himself at that moment. Someone had hurt his son and even if the one responsible was another child, he would be hard pressed to restrain himself. No one hurt his children and got away with it. No one.

He knew the teenager wasn't dead; he could hear the heart beat, slow and steady in sleep, and voices coming from a room at the rear of the ward. The dead child was in there, he was sure.

"Harry was taken, or lured, from his dormitory and out into the forest," Gareth told him. There was a tremble in his voice, just noticeable, and he was pale and drawn. Blood seeped through his bandage and his other hand jerked sporadically, like it wanted to grab something against its owner's will. "He was attacked, bound, and set alight. I was able to get to him in time to save his life."

"Attacked by whom?"

"Tom Riddle," Gareth said with a jerk of his head at the unconscious older teen. Gabriel didn't look over, but Lorna moved to the bed.

"He's just a boy."

"Far more than that," Gareth said softly.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel demanded.

"He's—" Gareth's hand jerked, the handcuff clanking against the bedframe, and he grimaced then scowled down at it. "He's more dangerous than he looks," Gareth said, and Gabriel knew it wasn't what he first planned to say. "In different circumstances, I'd tell you to take a taste of him, but—"

"He's a child," Gabriel said sharply, though Gareth's words made him curious. "He did that to you?"

Gareth didn't even glance down at his bandaged hand. "No. Self-inflicted."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but Gareth would say nothing more. Gabriel could only assume the handcuffs were to stop him hurting himself further.

Lorna returned to Harry's bed, careful not to shadow Pomfrey, and asked, "How bad is it?"

Still without glancing up from her work, Pomfrey answered tersely, "Bad."

They fell silent, letting Pomfrey work. McGonagall kept glancing at Riddle as if she couldn't quite believe he existed, which made Gabriel even more curious about him, especially as the restraints on his wrists and ankles were inscribed with runes that kept a person from doing any sort of magic.

Eventually the door to the room at the back opened, increasing the stink of death, and two men exited. Gabriel had never met either, but recognised both—Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy. Despite at least a fifty year age difference between the two, at that moment Lucius looked a great deal older than Dumbledore. Gabriel hadn't asked about the dead child, so glad that Harry was alive that he hadn't thought to, but now he didn't need to. He recognised the look in Lucius Malfoy's eye, the soul-crushing despair of a man who has just lost his whole world. As much as he hated the whole Malfoy family on behalf of what they'd done to Lorna centuries ago, he was not so heartless as to be pitiless towards the man's plight. He knew the agony of losing a child.

"Lord and Lady Valentine," Dumbledore greeted, moving down the ward towards them. Lucius followed, walking like a dead man. "I'm sorry we had to meet under such circumstances. Poppy, how is Harry coming along?"

By now, Pomfrey had managed to separate the trainers and bits of trouser fabric from Harry's skin, cast several spells to scour away the burnt and dead flesh, and now slathered everything from knee to toe in a bright orange paste. She finished and finally looked up from her work, seemed a touch surprised to find Gabriel and Lorna in her ward, but answered, "I expect him to regain full mobility, but I can't guarantee all the nerve damage can be repaired. He's not leaving this bed for a week, at least, and he will have to be careful for several weeks after that—no strenuous activity. There will definitely be scars. Gareth, let me just clean up and then I'll deal with your hand."

As she stalked to a sink at the far end of the ward, Lorna squeezed Gabriel's hand and sighed, the noise mostly relief but part despair too. "More scars," she murmured.

"At least he's alive, and he will walk," Gabriel said, kissing her cheek and returning the hand squeeze. At his words, she glanced past him to Lucius, who was staring at Dumbledore.

"You promised me an explanation, Dumbledore." His voice croaked, his efforts at sounding commanding falling flat, and he blinked several times in a clear effort to not cry.

"And you will have one, Lucius." Dumbledore withdrew a wand from his pocket, went over to Riddle, and waved the wand over him. " _Reenervate_."

Riddle blinked his eyes open, took a moment to focus on Dumbledore, then scowled and tried to sit up only to be held back by his restraints. He looked at them in surprise and then anger, struggled to free himself, and eventually fell back, glaring angrily at the headmaster.

"You got old, Dumbledore."

"Age will do that to you. You have some explaining to do, Tom. Why don't you begin with how you're here?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you, old man."

"You'll explain to me," Lucius said, moving to the bedside with surprising speed. His expression was pure anger now, body trembling as he glared down at the boy, and his voice didn't break when he spoke. "You'll tell me everything, boy."

Riddle looked him up and down, utterly calm, and a smile spread over his face. It was the smile of a predator, and Gabriel decided then that Gareth told the truth. This boy was more than he seemed.

"Lucius," Riddle drawled. "How nice to meet you."

"Tell me what you did to my son!"

"Tell _me_ how you came to have my diary."

Lucius' breath hitched at that, his grey eyes darting from Riddle to Dumbledore and back again. He managed to compose himself, but Gabriel could hear his heart pounding in his chest. "You're the one under interrogation, boy. What did you do to Draco?"

Riddle was still smiling. "I wrote to him. And he wrote to me. He told me all his deepest darkest secrets. Told me some of yours, too."

Lucius paled slightly, but his anger only grew. "How did you ki-" He choked on the word, unable to say it.

"Kill Draco?"

Lucius flinched as if he'd been struck with a boulder. His shoulders hunched and his anger drained away to despair again.

"I didn't kill him," Riddle said. He seemed almost amused by Lucius' reaction, but then his gaze flicked to Dumbledore and his expression morphed to one of regret and remorse. "I didn't know it would happen," he said, his tone as different as his expression. It was good, Gabriel had to admit; almost convincing. "I hadn't known it could kill him and by the time it was over, it was too late. Truly, I feel terrible that Draco's death was such an unfortunate side effect."

Lorna made a soft noise. Gabriel knew why: Cato Malfoy said much the same thing to her when she blamed him for the death of her children.

The noise was just loud enough to draw Riddle's attention. He lifted his head to look at the rest of the room's occupants, flicking over Pomfrey tending Gareth, Harry's prone form, lingering briefly on McGonagall, then settling on Gabriel and Lorna.

"Who are you?" he asked, blunt and rude.

"We're the parents of the boy you tried to burn alive," Lorna answered. Gabriel smiled, a cold, humourless expression that he knew bared his fangs and made him look like a tiger preparing to pounce. He was glad to see Riddle swallow, his heart rate picking up.

"You're Valentine."

That didn't require a response, so Gabriel didn't give one.

"I'm not afraid of a vampire."

"You're increased heart rate would suggest otherwise."

That only made it go up again, while Riddle tried not to look afraid. It didn't work, especially when Lorna approached his bed. Dumbledore's fingers tightened slightly on his wand and Lucius shuffled his feet, but all Lorna's attention was on Riddle.

"Why did you attack my son?"

Riddle looked away and said nothing.

"Answer her," Gabriel demanded. Riddle still said nothing, but he glanced at Gabriel, which was a mistake. Gabriel preferred to only use his vampiric powers on children to help them, but there were exceptions, and the vampire seduction didn't hurt them so it didn't break his primary rule.

It was effortless to do after so many centuries. He didn't even need the eye contact, although it helped. It was like sending a part of himself out, pulsing beyond the physical boundary of his skin until his presence pushed onto the others in the room. It focused on Riddle, but he wanted to affect others. Gareth and Dumbledore were both powerful wizards and that power was like a beacon to him, made him want to bend them to his will as well, but he knew that Gareth was immune to him and there was nothing to gain from Dumbledore right now. So he pressed on Riddle, who had no small amount of power himself although his soul felt strange, almost as if it wasn't really all there.

He didn't bother to be subtle about it, either. Riddle stared at him, heart rate dropping, muscles relaxing, and when Gabriel told him again to answer Lorna, he spoke immediately and without reservation, no false remorse now, just a hint of pride.

"I attacked Harry to avenge myself. I knew my older self had wanted him dead—"

"Explain that," Gabriel interrupted.

"Lord Voldemort," Riddle said, making Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Lucius flinch. "It was a name I fashioned for myself while still in school. Draco told me how he—how _I_ —tried to kill Harry Potter as a child and failed, and I planned to succeed in his place and bring Harry's cold body to him, but I also wanted revenge for his part in stopping my attacks on the school and killing my basilisk."

" _Your_ basilisk?" McGonagall repeated. " _You_ opened the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Through Draco," Riddle answered, never once taking his gaze off Gabriel, who silently encouraged him to elaborate. "When he wrote in my diary, I was able to write back and eventually control him. I made him open the Chamber and release the basilisk. When it was killed, he kept writing, kept pouring his soul into me, until I was able to leave the diary. As soon as I was strong enough, I lured Harry from his bed with a story about his sister being injured and—"

"Did you harm her?" Lorna interrupted, urgent, fangs flashing. "Did you hurt my daughter too?"

"I've never even seen her," Riddle answered, and both Lorna and Gabriel relaxed. "It was just a lie to get Harry to follow me. I took him out to the forest and then I attacked him. I wanted to know how he survived the Killing Curse as an infant, but he claimed not to know. I intended to kill his pet snake, but he was able to set a fire wandlessly and distract me, so I retaliated in kind."

"And that, presumably, is when Gareth arrived," Dumbledore finished, looking at Riddle like he was a previously undiscovered animal species.

"Yes."

Dumbledore sighed. "Fortunate for Harry. Lord Valentine, that will do."

Gabriel glanced at him, then withdrew his power, clearing away all traces of himself although he was capable of leaving lasting effects if he wanted. Riddle blinked, shook his head, and then glared angrily at Gabriel.

"Monster."

He let out a short bark of laughter at that. "You don't get to call me monster, Voldemort."

"It's _Lord_ Voldemort."

"Then as one lord to another, let me be clear that if you attempt to follow in your elder self's footsteps, every vampire in Britain will stand against you, and you will never, ever harm my son again."

He turned away without waiting to see Riddle's reaction. He was done with this child; he just wanted to see his son recover. He and Lorna took up seats on either side of the bed, each holding one of Harry's hands.

"So what now, Dumbledore?" he heard Riddle ask, tone sneering but his racing heart still giving away his apprehension. "What happens to me?"

"You will remain under my charge until I contact the Ministry and explain the situation, and then I expect you'll be charged with murder and attempted murder."

"But I didn't know!" Riddle yelled, straining against his bonds. "I didn't know it would kill him, I wouldn't have—"

 _SMACK!_

"Lucius!"

Gabriel looked around. Dumbledore held Lucius by the wrist, restraining him from slapping Riddle again, whose cheek was already pink and his expression stunned. Lucius shook from head to toe and the tears he fought to hold back earlier now dripped freely down his face.

"Don't you dare act innocent," he said with a trembling voice. "I know you. I know what you become. You never cared for anything in your life except for yourself. Don't you dare pretend that you gave a moment's thought to my son's life."

He snatched his hand from Dumbledore's grip, whirled on his heel, and stalked back to the room where Draco's body was.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said softly, "could you move Tom to the second private room. Bed and all. I think it would be best if he were separated, and stay with him, please. If he becomes difficult, I'm sure Poppy has a sleeping potion you can use on him."

McGonagall nodded, drawing her wand and levitating Riddle's entire bed down the ward. Dumbledore turned to Gareth, whose hand was now freshly and properly bandaged. Poppy vanished the bloodied bandages with a flick of her wand and fed Gareth a potion of blood red, which he drank with a grimace.

"How is he, Poppy?"

Pomfrey's expression was stern, thick with disapproval as she directed her answer to Gareth. "You'll be able to use it again, but there's permanent damage this time and you're in for a lifetime of pain." Gareth didn't look bothered by this. "It would heal a lot better if you _stopped doing it_."

"Can't. Wish I could."

"You'll explain that to me later," Dumbledore said. "For now, can I remove the handcuffs and be sure you won't do yourself more immediate damage?"

"Ask Lord Valentine."

Gabriel frowned. Dumbledore glanced at him in surprise, then back to Gareth. "Ask him about your self-harm?"

Gareth nodded.

"I know nothing of it," Gabriel said.

"You know—" He broke off, cuffed hand jerking, and he scowled and said, "You've known something for almost a year now."

Dumbledore stared at Gabriel. "Lord Valentine?"

"I presume," Gabriel said slowly, wondering why Gareth seemed so intent on him telling Dumbledore rather than saying himself, "that he means I know about the magic on his soul."

Pomfrey and Dumbledore's gazes snapped to Gareth, who still stared at Gabriel, handcuffs clinking slightly as his hand trembled, fist clenched, and Gabriel suddenly understood.

"He is under the influence of an old spell. Even in my human days it was not often used and I haven't seen it done in over a millennium. We called it Animancupium."

A sharp inhale of breath from Dumbledore said he knew what it was, but Pomfrey had no idea. Lorna knew; Gabriel had explained it to her when he found out about it.

"Given his reluctance to speak," Gabriel went on, "I can only assume his Master has forbidden him to tell anyone about it."

"Then how did you know?" Dumbledore asked.

"I tasted him last Christmas, and he is utterly resistant to the seduction. Only powerful soul magic can do that."

"Who is your Master?" Dumbledore asked Gareth, who said nothing but transferred his gaze from Gabriel to the headmaster. "You cannot say."

"I can speak about what's already known to those that know it, but I—"

His hand jerked. Gabriel realised what that meant at the same moment Dumbledore did, and the headmaster was the one to say it aloud.

"You can't tell us anything new, and if you try then it hurts you—or rather, you're forced to harm yourself. We have to figure it out."

Gareth neither nodded nor shook his head, which was as good as a confirmation in the circumstances.

"Very well. We'll ask you nothing more on it until later. I have to contact the Ministry and speak with the rest of the staff. Is it safe enough for me to remove your handcuffs?"

Gareth considered it, eyes flicking over Harry and the doors to the private rooms, but eventually nodded. "Besides you took away my quill."

"I've taken away several," Dumbledore remarked, tapping his wand to Gareth's handcuffs. "You always seem to have more."

Gareth just shrugged and grinned apologetically, but it quickly faded. "Let me tell the rest of Slytherin the news."

"You're injured—"

"I don't need my hand to talk. I'm their Head of House, I should be the one to tell them."

Dumbledore looked to Pomfrey, who frowned, but said, "I'm not happy about it, but I know what you're like, Gareth. I want to check and change those bandages in two hours."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin that didn't soften her expression.

"Poppy, I trust you can handle things when Mr Malfoy is ready to leave?" Dumbledore said, and Pomfrey nodded. Dumbledore excused himself and he and Gareth left.

When they were gone, Lorna asked, "Madam? You said Harry will be bedbound for a week—he'll have to remain here for the holiday?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. He can't be moved."

"When is he likely to wake?"

"Probably before morning," Pomfrey answered, "but I may have to put him to sleep again. When his nerves start to heal, it will be immensely painful for him."

That wasn't something they wanted to hear, but they nodded and she left them alone with their son.

* * *

Pain relieving potions had a dry, bitter taste to them, but Harry didn't notice after a few days. He was just grateful for the relief they brought from the agony in his legs. He wished it relieved his misery just as much. He hated being in the Hospital Wing, hated that he couldn't leave his bed and had to do his business in bedpans, and he hated that he couldn't go home. Tori had, so he was stuck in his bed in the Hospital Wing thinking of all the fun she must be having at home. He'd already been grumpy about missing half of Saturnalia because the school term didn't end until the twenty-first, and now he was missing it all. Even a visit from his parents didn't make up for it. They came the night of the attack, and then again a couple of nights later which was good because he couldn't remember anything from that night after the attack itself.

He didn't like being left alone with his thoughts. He kept thinking about Draco. It bothered him that he'd been sharing a dorm with someone who was writing nightly to Voldemort, bothered him that he'd never known, and bothered him that Draco was dead. Mostly he was bothered that Draco had been so keen to befriend him and Harry had turned him away. He knew that Draco's death wasn't really his fault, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty. Draco had tried to befriend him, albeit not very well, and Harry had turned him away again and again, unwilling to even give him a chance. Would Draco still be alive if Harry had been a little kinder? Would Draco have told him about the diary, admitted to what he knew and asked for help in fighting off Riddle's possession? Harry would never know.

Riddle himself was gone from the school, for which Harry was grateful. He heard that Dumbledore had difficulty convincing the Minister of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that the sixteen year old was really the teenage incarnation of Lord Voldemort, and even now the information was being kept utmost secret, but no one had any qualms about putting Riddle to trial for murder and attempted murder. Lucius Malfoy still carried a lot of weight within the Ministry, even with the shame of his wife's imprisonment, and of course Harry being the Boy Who Lived carried as much importance, if not more, so it was all too easy to bring Riddle before the Wizengamot. Despite the time of year, the trial was expedited and within days Riddle was incarcerated at Azkaban.

A part of Harry had nastily hoped they'd give him the Dementor's Kiss, but although he was tried as an adult even the Wizengamot wasn't willing to have a sixteen year old Kissed. He was merely sentenced to a life imprisonment.

Harry was glad to see his parents, Tori, and Jennifer on the evening of the twenty-fourth. They bought his Saturnalia gifts, so many that they took up another entire bed—toys, books, clothes. Mostly from them, but also some from the nest vampires, who had also sent a get well card that was half as big as him. Madam Pomfrey was obviously unimpressed at the belongings over-flowing her hospital wing, but she didn't say anything, whether because Dumbledore spoke to her or because she just didn't want to tell Gabriel and Lorna what they couldn't do. His family stayed until almost midnight, and he was immensely disappointed to see them leave again.

He woke late the next morning, resigned to spending the day in the Hospital Wing, just as bored as he'd been for the past four days. He flicked through one of the books he got the day before, idly conjured a swarm of butterflies to amuse himself, and had an unexpected visit from Theo after lunch, who told him the students remaining in Slytherin were all a bit subdued in the wake of Draco's death, but it was Gareth's visit before dinner that surprised him most. Not that Gareth came to see him—he'd stopped by Harry's bed several times when having his own hand tended to—but that he came an hour before dinner and spent most of that hour convincing Madam Pomfrey to let Harry go to the Great Hall.

"I'll levitate him down and back myself," Gareth promised her. "His feet will never touch the floor. He deserves to get out for a bit, Poppy. No kid should miss the Christmas feast."

It took him most of the hour, but eventually he convinced her to let him take Harry down. They helped him into a wheelchair and Gareth wheeled him out.

"They need to put in elevators," Harry said as Gareth levitated him down the marble staircase.

"We thought about it, but we didn't want you students getting lazy."

Harry smiled. "It'd be possible though. Pulleys and stuff and automated levitation charms."

"Runic magic would be better. Steadier, less likely to fail without warning. But you'd have to convince the headmaster and the board of governors to agree to the refurbishment, and Dumbledore might be open to it but the governors are a bunch of old codgers."

Harry chuckled at that then gasped because they'd reached the Great Hall. Huge Christmas trees with tinsel and baubles, real live fairies fluttering about, streamers of holly and mistletoe, and warm, dry, but very realistic snow falling from the ceiling. It was gorgeous to look at and made even the decorations at home seem bland.

The meal was impressive too. Gareth parked the wheelchair at the end of the Slytherin table, near Theo and a second year named Logan Sparrow who could pass him any dishes he wanted, and he stuffed himself with roast turkey and potatoes, peas and carrots, all soaked in rich gravy. The crackers exploded with a bang to release a dozen white mice and a fully feathered Victorian women's hat, which he set aside to give to Jennifer.

He did enjoy it and hated having to go back to the Hospital Wing afterwards, except that it meant he could get another pain relieving potion. When Pomfrey was tucking him back into the bed, checking that the excursion hadn't caused undue harm to his legs, he asked her how long it would be before they stopped hurting.

"It will reduce severely," she told him, her professionally apologetic tone making his stomach feel leaden with more than just the weight of his dinner, "but the damage was so bad that... well, I'm sorry, Mr Potter-Valentine, but you may suffer from some pain forever."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy didn't consider himself a disloyal man, it was just that his loyalty to others always came second to his loyalty to himself. When Voldemort fell, Lucius claimed himself not guilty by reason of Imperius and never once considered it a disloyalty to Voldemort. What good would Lucius be stuck in Azkaban, driven mad like his sister-in-law and her brethren? Much better to be out among the people, making connections, learning the new order of the world, ingratiating himself so that he would have information and use for Voldemort when he returned from... wherever it was he'd gone.

But when his son died, he had to forsake Voldemort. He didn't run to the Ministry and spill everything he knew about the man and his followers, the secrets he'd kept that meant certain other Death Eaters still roamed free despite being men far worse than Lucius himself. Besides, what use was eleven year old information? No, he wouldn't do that, but if Voldemort ever came back, Lucius would never bend his knee to him. He couldn't. Voldemort had killed his son. Maybe not _the_ Voldemort, the one that was powerless and Merlin only knew where in the world, but it was _a_ Voldemort, some incarnation of the Dark Lord who'd used Draco's life and soul to fuel his own rebirth. Lucius could never swear himself to a man who'd done that.

But then Christmas came. As usual when he woke, he had a few brief moments when he forgot that Draco was dead, and he expected to hear a pounding on his door and Draco's voice demanding that he get up so they could go downstairs and Draco could unwrap his gifts... but there was no Draco and no gifts. The house wasn't even decorated. Lucius had ordered everything stripped down as soon as he got home the night of Draco's death, had not wanted those festive decorations _laughing_ at him with their twinkling bright colours.

Instead, Dobby was in the room, wringing his hands and stuttering that there were two Ministry officials at the door. Lucius groaned and told the elf to tell them to sod off, but then Dobby said, "They is here about the Mistress Narcissa, Master Lucius."

Lucius was up in an instant, dressing gown pulled over his pyjamas and slippers on his feet, hurrying through the manor to the drawing room where the two officials waited. They were from the DMLE's Azkaban Management Office, of course; two grim visages who had the perpetual grey look of people who spent too much time around Dementors.

"Gentlemen," Lucius greeted curtly, and didn't offer any refreshments. "What brings you here today of all mornings?"

They told him.

He never felt himself hit the floor. He didn't feel the Ministry Official touch his shoulder, barely even saw the man crouching before him. His head felt inflated and empty, like someone sucked his brain out and filled his skull full of hot air instead. His chest was clamped in a vice, lungs crushed so he could barely breathe, and his heart...

His heart shattered.

He didn't realise how literally until he woke up in St Mungo's with a healer telling him he had a heart attack. He said nothing, endured his treatment, and ate little.

Lucius Malfoy was not a disloyal man, but there were some things that couldn't be forgiven and some things that drove even the loyalist man to betrayal. Voldemort may not have put the noose around Narcissa Malfoy's neck, but Lucius very firmly laid the blame at his feet, and he was going to get his revenge in kind. Even if it was the last thing he ever did, Lucius would kill Lord Voldemort.

In all his incarnations.

Permanently.

* * *

"How's the hand, Gareth?"

Gareth held it up and wiggled his fingers at Dumbledore, lounging in a chair in the headmaster's office. His hand was still wrapped in bandages, but the movement didn't hurt much. The other hand held a teacup, the saucer of which hovered by itself just to one side. "Healing. I'll be fine."

"Glad to hear it." Dumbledore put down his own teacup and gestured to a sheet of parchment on his desk, both sides of which were completely covered by the sentence _I will not interfere_. "I don't suppose you can tell me what it means."

Gareth said nothing. Dumbledore sighed. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

"Nope."

Dumbledore sighed again, but this time with less despair. "We'd had best get on with it then. I've done some reading on the Animancupium Bond since the other night." He tapped a thin, leather bound book sitting on his desk. "I had only known the basics up until now. Quite unpleasant."

Gareth snorted. "Try living with it."

"I did notice that it can be transfe-"

"No."

"No? But you clearly don't like your Master. You struggle against his or her orders and it causes you great harm. Surely you'd prefer someone else."

"No. He's my Master."

"A new one could free you of your orders," Dumbledore pointed out. "They could stop you having to hurt yourself every time you—"

"No!" Gareth interrupted harshly, glaring at the headmaster now. He set down his cup of tea and leant forward, dark eyes boring into Dumbledore's blue ones. "You don't get it, Albus. He is my _Master_. That's a capital 'm' there, and emphasis on the 'my' too. He's mine and I am his and I will not be taken from him."

Dumbledore set his elbows on the desk, linked his fingers, and peered sadly over his glasses. "Forced loyalty."

Gareth glanced away, leaning back again. "Something like that."

"I noticed your consent to transfer a Bond isn't needed. It can be forced."

"I will fight, Albus, and fight hard. He's my Master; I would die for him."

"And die with him, too, isn't that right?"

Gareth shrugged. "For certain definitions of the word 'with', but yes—he dies, I die, and none too pleasantly, either. But you needn't worry about that. I shan't drop dead in the middle of a potion class because my Master got hit by a bus or something."

"You sound very sure of that."

"I am. Suffice to say, my Master is in a place where his life is assured."

"Can you elaborate on that?"

Gareth said nothing.

"Very well. What can you tell me about your Master? Perhaps if you can give some descriptions of his person I can figure out who it is."

"Who says I want you to figure it out?"

Dumbledore frowned, taking up his teacup again and leaning back in his chair. After taking several long sips, he said, "This forced loyalty is going to be a big obstacle, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gareth said immediately, then added, "but don't be mistaken, Albus. Not all of it is a matter of forced loyalty. For all that he's my Master, I do have a certain amount of loathing for the man, but more importantly I also have my own secrets to keep."

"And he helps you keep them?"

"Yes. His orders—" He broke off, frowned, tried again. "He—it's—goddamnit... I... don't always think he's... wrong. There we go."

"Even when he's hurting you?" Dumbledore said, surprised. "You think that his orders are beneficial, even when it causes you harm?"

Gareth shrugged. There was a plate of biscuits on the desk and he took one, dipping it in the cup floating alongside him, and munched on it. "Pain is an old friend," he said after finishing it. "It's just a matter of life and my—my—other people have hurt me worse."

Dumbledore paused, teacup half raised, considering the forced pauses in Gareth's speech, then he set the cup down, eyes widening slightly. "This Master is not your first, is he? Your Bond has been transferred before."

Silence. It was all the confirmation Dumbledore needed.

"Can you say how many you've had before him?"

"I can, but I've no inclination to, nor will I tell you any of their names so don't ask."

"But we're getting somewhere now," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Oh, before I forget—there was a spell to make the bond visible. Do you mind if I...?"

"I'd rather not. D'you know what it's like to see a ghostly great chain bursting out of your chest? Or is it that you doubt I'm telling the truth?"

"Of course not, Gareth. It was a curiosity, that's all. Forgive me."

Gareth waved it off, taking another biscuit.

"Then perhaps I can try and figure out how long you've been Bound."

"You can try, but you'll have to be smart about it. Don't think you can just ask me how long it's been and I'll answer 'no' to everything except the right one."

"Too clever for that?"

"Too clever by half," Gareth agreed, then looked surprised by himself, and smiled. "Not that clever, though, apparently. That's what gets it, Albus—the orders are—it takes—words—loopholes. There are always loopholes. You just have to be smarter than the Bond in order to find them, and I'm pretty good at finding them."

"Obey the letter of the law rather than the spirit?"

"Exactly. The only problem is—"

"Is?"

Gareth struggled a moment and eventually said, grouchily, "Sometimes I hate my Master."

"Yes, I can imagine you would."

Gareth sighed, pressing both palms to his face and grumbling something Dumbledore couldn't hear, then looked up and held the headmaster's gaze firmly as he said again, pointedly, "Sometimes I hate my Master."

Dumbledore frowned, trying to figure out what Gareth was trying to tell him, and finished the last of his tea before he got it. "Ah! Your Master is an intelligent man, careful to try and cover all his bases."

A nod.

"A challenge then. Lets hope I'm the more intelligent." He looked almost excited by the prospect. "Do you see him often?"

"No. Oh! Didn't think I'd answer that."

Dumbledore smiled. "Do you know, I wonder about the definitions of words like 'often'. Moment, sometimes, occasionally... if you had to put a definite time frame to 'moment', how long would it be?"

"Less than a minute, more than a couple of seconds," Gareth said. There was a smile about his lips that said he knew what angle Dumbledore was working and fully willing to see if it worked.

"Yes, I agree. What about occasionally?"

"Relative, but less than half of whatever is in question. I.E., I occasionally have custard creams with my tea," he said, picking one up from the plate, "but more often I have bourbons."

"Quite, quite, and how much is 'often', in your opinion?"

"Once every fifteen years," Gareth answered promptly, and Dumbledore's jaw dropped.

"Once every...? But you're only twenty-nine, if you haven't seen him in... you'd have been fourteen. Gareth, you've lost me, I have to be direct. Are you saying you haven't seen your Master since you were fourteen?"

"No," Gareth answer slowly. "But it's an important age. Lots of things happen when a boy is fourteen."

If Dumbledore was shocked before, he was gobsmacked now. "You were Bound at _fourteen_?"

Silence.

Dumbledore slumped in his chair, staring at Gareth, stunned. For a while, neither of them spoke. Gareth finished his tea and ate two more biscuits. Dumbledore poured himself another cup, but frowned at it instead of drinking. Eventually he sighed.

"Gareth, forgive me for saying so, but your first Master was a cruel man. To do that to a child..."

Gareth shrugged. "He was better than many others."

"Many others? How many Masters have you had in fifteen years?"

"I told you I'm not answering that."

"Yes, of course. It's just concerning. I don't like to think that you're not your own man."

"I'm not a spy," Gareth told him, frowning.

"Oh, no, I did not think so," Dumbledore was quick to reassure him. "I simply meant that no man should be subject to such cruelty, to have his very soul bound in servitude to another. Every man deserves his freedom."

"Even men like Tom Riddle?"

"Freedom of the soul," Dumbledore amended. "The body is a different matter. Prisons are a necessity of life. Even I am not so optimistic that I can imagine a day when no man on earth has it in him to commit a crime."

"Such is human nature."

"Indeed. But let us get back to you. You've been Bound for fifteen years, to more than one Master—no less than four, I think—and you don't want me to know who your current Master is, suggesting it's someone I know. You're also very certain that he shan't die unexpectedly, so... is he in prison, by any chance?"

Gareth grinned. "Good guess, but no, and you won't get his location out of me, Albus. Even if I wasn't ordered to secrecy on that I wouldn't tell you. He's my Master; I'm not giving you anything about him."

Dumbledore frowned at that. "I understand where you're coming from, Gareth, but I have students to consider and a school to protect. I have to know if you or your Master will be a threat to Hogwarts."

"Seven years working for you and now you think I might be a threat?" Gareth asked, not bothering to keep the anger out of his tone. "I've never done anything to jeopardise this school or the students in it."

"Gareth, forgive me, but understand where I come from. On the night of Draco's death, you almost destroyed your hand writing _I will not interfere_ whilst you went out to save Harry. Obviously, in saving him, you were interfering with something in some way that your Master didn't want you to. Next time one of the students is in danger, how can I trust that you'll be able to fight your Master's orders enough to help them?"

Gareth's anger faded and his voice and face were earnest as he said, "I can assure you, Albus, that my Master has as much interest as you do in seeing Hogwarts and its students remain safe. As such, so do I."

Dumbledore nodded. "Then I am satisfied, and never again will I question your integrity."

* * *

By the New Year, Madam Pomfrey let Harry leave his bed to walk to the bathroom and back, with the aid of crutches. His legs were no longer covered in orange goo and he almost wished they were because the sight of his legs covered in mottled pink and white scar tissue wasn't attractive. They were even worse than the scars on his face and back, in his opinion, and he disliked looking at them so much that he put a Concealing Charm on them just for taking a bath.

He was very glad to have one of those. For over a week Madam Pomfrey had just used Cleansing Spells on him, which did the job but didn't give quite the same clean feeling as an actual bath or shower.

The pain had gone down now that the nerves were done growing back, but his legs still ached a lot, and Pomfrey switched him from immediate relief pain potions to slow release ones that he took morning and night instead of every four hours, which made the pain manageable and let him sleep. Getting up and moving about aggravated the pain, but he was so eager to get out of the Hospital Wing that he pushed through, taking whatever pain relievers Pomfrey would allow and moving as much as possible. He hoped that if he proved himself able enough, she'd let him out to return to classes with the rest of the students when they came back on the fifth of January, but she refused.

"It's only been two weeks!" she told him sternly when he tried to argue. "You're not nearly healed enough to be wandering about the castle all day."

Anita came to visit him the first night back, a little awkward as she held out a present to him. "It's a get well gift. And an apology for thinking you were the Heir of Slytherin."

It was a retractable wand strap that attached to his hip holster, something that would ensure no Disarming Charm could ever make him lose his wand again, which he considered more than good enough to earn his forgiveness, and they fell back to their normal camaraderie. He also got an unexpected visit from Tracey Davis. She was the one that Professor Quirrell had put under the Imperius Curse to push him over the Quidditch stands. She apologised awkwardly, feeling guilty but also defensive and careful to point out that she hadn't been in control and couldn't even remember doing it.

"It's fine," he told her, waving the apology off. "I know it wasn't your fault."

Hagrid and Quirrell had finally been replaced. Ms Wexler, the new groundskeeper, was a small, very hairy woman with a high pitched voice, and Professor Umbridge was a Ministry appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that Tori had nothing kind to say about when she came to visit Harry after classes on the first day of term.

"She looks like a toad," she said bluntly, dropping into a chair beside Harry's bed. "A fat pink toad. And she won't let us do any magic. She lectured us straight from the textbook, she must think we're completely thick."

"As long as she's not possessed by the Dark Lord, then to be honest she can't be worse than Quirrell."

Tori didn't look so sure.

Theo brought Harry his books and homework so he could keep up on his studies, and Harry wondered if maybe Tori was right when he discovered his Defence homework was the same first year level stuff that everyone else was doing, but maybe Umbridge just hadn't been made aware of his advanced study.

Pomfrey finally let him out of the Hospital Wing after another week, but with strict instructions to take it easy and not walk about any more than he absolutely had to. This was no problem. Even just going down to Slytherin made his legs start to ache so he had no inclination to overwork himself.

He had his first class with Umbridge on Tuesday afternoon. She didn't even lecture them, like Tori said her class had, she just told them to silently copy whole pages from their textbooks. The rest of his housemates opened their books and took out parchment and quill with a sigh, evidently already used to this after just three lessons. Harry got out his own, but before he could begin writing, Professor Umbridge came up to his desk and dropped a copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble on his desk.

"This is the textbook we're working from, Mr Potter," she said sweetly. She had an expression that he assumed was meant to be kind and friendly, but to him was just sort of creepy.

"Potter-Valentine," Harry corrected automatically, frowning, and went on, "and this is a first year textbook."

"Precisely. Far more suited to you than _Advanced Defensive Theory_."

She tried to take his copy of said book from the desk, but he snatched it away before she could. "Professor, I don't think you've been made aware that I'm studying ahead of the class," he told her in the politest tone possible. "I was schooled extensively in magical theory before starting at Hogwarts, and as such—"

"Not Ministry approved schooling," Umbridge interrupted. "You will read chapter one of _The Dark Forces_ , Mr Potter, along with the rest of your class."

She turned away to trot back to her desk.

"It was Ministry approved, actually."

Umbridge stopped, turned. Her attempt at a kind, friendly expression fell away as she stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"My tutoring was Ministry approved. You must not have heard, but I was adopted by a couple of vampires and because of that the Ministry inspected every detail of my home life extremely closely. Twice, actually. Once when they found out I was living with vampires, and again when my parents applied for actual adoption. It was very disruptive, but both times not only did the investigator approve of my home education, but they praised it highly. Aiden Kelly is one of the best in his field, after all."

Umbridge now looked as if she'd like to strangle him. "Well," she said. "How very fortunate for you. Regardless, I am your teacher now and _Advanced Defensive Theory_ is not Ministry approved, and I say you are to copy out Chapter Oone of _The Dark Forces_."

"But I already know everything that has to tell me!" Harry said irritably. "It'd be a waste of time."

"Oh," Umbridge said softly, smiling again now, much less sweetly this time. "So you think my classes are a waste of time?"

"I didn't mean—"

"It's perfectly clear what you mean, Mr Potter-Valentine." She said his full name in a way that made him grind his teeth with irritation. "You, an eleven year old boy, thinks he knows more than a fully-qualified witch, and that... why that's completely absurd," she said with a high-pitched, tinkling laugh that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. He said nothing in reply, clenching his jaw tightly and fisting his hands on his lap while Umbridge looked at him with smug self-satisfaction. "As I thought. Now I think five points from Slytherin for talking back, and you will get on with copying the first chapter of _The Dark Forces_ in absolute silence."

He opened the book, still glaring at her, and when she turned away with that smug smile still on her face he childishly stuck his tongue out at her back, eliciting sniggers from several of his classmates. He promptly pulled it back when she glanced around, dropping his gaze to the book and reaching for his quill.

He went to Gareth's office after classes, waiting around impatiently for his Head of House to turn up, and then gratefully taking a seat in the office when Gareth turned up.

"How are you, Harry? Glad to be back in classes?"

"Mostly," Harry told him as Gareth dumped a pile of scrolls on his desk then scattered them about to clear a space to lean his arms on. "History is boring as ever, but I need to talk to you about Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Ah. Umbridge. What has she done?"

"She won't accept that I'm ahead in my studies. She made me copy out pages from _The Dark Forces_. Not even take notes, just copy it word for word! When I tried to tell her I normally studied from _Advanced Defensive Theory_ she said it wasn't Ministry approved. I didn't even know the curriculum has to be Ministry approved."

"It doesn't," Gareth told him. "Technically, we only have to be up to the governors' requirements, but the Ministry can interfere. Unfortunately, with everything that occurred last term, Cornelius Fudge has decided a closer watch needs to be kept on the school and so he had Dolores Umbridge put in as your new Defence teacher to keep an eye on things and report back to him."

"And not teach us anything?" Harry asked. "She won't even demonstrate defensive spells to the class and I heard she's doing the same to the older students as well. How is anyone meant to learn anything just from reading the textbook?"

"Practically, not much," Gareth admitted. "I will talk with Professor Umbridge about your skill level. Unfortunately, there's little I can do about her teaching methods, but I expect you're used to theoretical work by now."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "Still rather boring."

"I imagine so. But I have something that should cheer you up. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick have all agreed that you're far enough ahead in Defence, Transfiguration, and Charms that you can probably take your OWL at the end of the year."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Really? But... I mean, you really think so?"

"That's what they say." Gareth was smiling.

"But what about Professor Umbridge? I know I've only had one lesson with her, but I don't think she'll let me take my OWL."

"Fortunately the individual teacher's permission isn't needed. OWL and NEWT examinations are managed by the Wizarding Examination Authority, who are almost a separate entity from the Ministry of Magic. All it requires is that your name is entered for the examinations no later than the end of March."

"Do you think I should?" Harry asked, unsure despite his confidence in his own spell casting.

"I'm sure you could pass the practicals, and I completely trust in the other teachers' assessment of your theory work. If they say you're capable of taking the exams in June, then I have every faith that you will pass with flying colours."

He sounded so certain of it that Harry couldn't help smiling, his confidence bolstered. "Then I think I'd like to."

* * *

Umbridge allowed Harry to study from _Advanced Defensive Theory_ , but only after testing him rigorously on the theory, looking thoroughly annoyed when he proved himself more than adept. It was like she wanted him to be mediocre, or worse; as if it personally offended her to have a first year with a fifth year's intelligence.

She quickly became extremely disliked throughout the whole school. Aside from the non-practical lessons, she was capricious in her treatment of the students. It was most obvious in the way she favoured purebloods or half-bloods with money or connections to politically powerful people, but it was clear she was also racist and religiously intolerant. She did nothing overt enough to get sacked on the spot, but her clear disdain of coloured students and anyone openly wearing a religious artifact was enough to make even the rest of the students uncomfortable, all except the handful who happened to share her opinions.

Not even the sixth and seventh years were permitted to practice magic in their classes, and before the end of the second week of term a number of illicit study groups had popped up. The Slytherins dedicated an hour every evening to practising spells in the common room, all the chairs and tables pushed aside, a different year group practising each night. Harry found himself wrangled into helping all the first years and a number of the older students, though some of them didn't like to have a firstie teaching them magic and refused his help despite his obvious proficiency.

Harry refused to let Umbridge get to him. He focused on his work, determined to prove himself worthy of his teachers' expectations in the exams he would take in June. As such, despite Umbridge's unwelcome presence, several weeks passed unremarkably until, one day in early April about a week before the spring holiday, Tori told Harry that she'd earnt her first ever detention, and it was with Umbridge.

"She was trash talking vampires," she told Harry grumpily at lunch. "Saying they were all monsters that needed to be executed, so I said she was a monster that needs to be executed."

Harry winced. "No wonder she gave you a detention."

"Don't care. She's a horrible old toad and I'll have a hundred detentions before I agree with anything she says."

Harry didn't expect Tori's detention to make her suddenly contrite and fond of Umbridge, but nor did he expect her to come storming into the Great Hall the next morning, drop down on the bench beside Harry, and thrust her hand under his nose.

"Look at that!"

He looked. Etched into the back of her hand, as if someone had carved them there, were the words _I will respect my betters_.

"Did that bitch do this to you?" he demanded, staring at the words.

"Worse," Tori said, and explained the blood quill which forced the writer to cut into their own hand. He was ready to storm straight up to the staff table and hex Umbridge where she sat, but Tori grabbed his arm and held him in place. "I'm handling it."

"I'm coming with you," he insisted, scrambling out of his seat alongside her and following her up to the front of the hall. It wasn't very unusual for students to approach teachers at mealtimes, so it didn't draw much attention, even when they came to a stop in front of Professor Dumbledore. But as there weren't many reasons a couple of first years would need to speak to the headmaster, a few of the students nearest watched with interest as they ate.

"Miss Valentine, Mr Potter-Valentine," Dumbledore greeted them politely. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, sir, I'd like to lodge a complaint against one of the teachers."

"That is something you should take first to your head of house, Miss Valentine. I'm sure Professor Flitwick will accompany you to his office immediately."

"Yes, sir, only I wanted to bring it straight to you, Professor, because I thought you'd want to know about your employees using dark magic against students."

Dumbledore dropped his spoon with a clatter. The eavesdropping students hurriedly whispered to their neighbours, and soon enough the whole hall was staring up at the staff table. The rest of the staff were watching Dumbledore with expressions running from 'concerned' to 'I want to flee for my life'. Dumbledore himself hadn't taken his gaze off Tori, and despite the anger very obviously burning behind his eyes, his voice was as calm and kind as ever.

"What dark magic, Miss Valentine?"

"Blood quills, sir," she said, and stuck her hand across the table.

Two seats down from Dumbledore, Gareth tensed, eyes darting to Tori's hand but the rest of him completely motionless, coffee mug still half raised.

Dumbledore took Tori's hand gently between his own, looking closely at the words carved into it, then pushed it back and got to his feet.

"Who forced you to write this, Miss Valentine?"

"Professor Umbridge, sir. In detention."

"In future, if any member of staff asks you to harm yourself as part of a detention, you may refuse and bring the matter straight to me. You needn't wait until the next morning."

Tori nodded, returning Dumbledore's kind smile with a grateful one of her own.

"Go to the Hospital Wing and have that hand tended to, Miss Valentine. Professor Martin?"

Gareth slowly shifted his gaze to Dumbledore and had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Headmaster?"

"You have a free period this morning, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then could you cover Professor Umbridge's first class, please," Dumbledore requested, and Gareth visibly relaxed, slumping in his chair and almost spilling his coffee. "Professor Flitwick, if you could take the second period. I should be able to take the later classes myself. Professor Umbridge, I would like a word with you in my office. Immediately."

No one said a word as Dumbledore and Umbridge got to their feet and left the hall, Umbridge forced into a peculiar little trot to keep up with Dumbledore's long strides, and then chatter broke out. More than a few students left their seats to come up to the staff table and say that they, too, had been forced to use the blood quill and hadn't said anything because they didn't realise it was dark magic.

By lunch time, Umbridge was sacked and Dumbledore was once again teaching Defence classes not only for the rest of the term, but for the rest of the entire year, much to everyone's delight.

A week later the spring holiday came and while more students remained at Hogwarts for that than had at winter, Harry was glad to leave and go home for the first time since September. It had been nice to see his parents in December, but it wasn't the same as getting picked up from London by Jennifer on the eleventh of April, relaxing in the limo for the drive to Nottingham, and finally walking back into Lynott Manor—back into his home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The one thing Harry hated about Hogwarts was that it had no swimming pool. There was the lake, of course, but he wasn't swimming in freezing cold Scottish freshwater, especially not when it was inhabited by merpeople and a giant squid. He relished being able to go swimming as often as he pleased now that he was back home for a couple of weeks. It was pleasant on his scarred legs, too, but he got into an argument with his parents about that. They didn't like that he covered the scars with a Concealing Charm, but he hated the look of them so much that he refused to swim without the charms on.

They didn't hurt him much anymore. Pomfrey had lowered his pain reliever dose to the point where he was left with a constant, low level ache. She had tried to wean him off it completely, but that had left him in too much pain to get through a day of climbing up and down Hogwarts' many staircases, nor could he sleep at night. As such, he was still on a medium-strength slow release painkiller that he took morning and night.

But when he ran out halfway through the holiday, he found that it wasn't just the pain that kept him awake. He felt twitchy and unable to relax, his muscles jittery and his mind racing wildly, and by morning he felt like there were ants crawling under his skin and he hadn't slept a wink. He shuffled down to breakfast feeling terrible, thinking perhaps some food would make him feel better, but the moment he got a whiff of Tori's full English breakfast, his stomach turned and he had to run for the bathroom, barely making it in time to bend over the toilet and vomit.

Twenty minutes later he was back in bed, his parents on either side of him looking worried, Lorna holding a thermometer and frowning.

"Thirty-eight point seven. Is your throat sore?"

Harry shook his head, then regretted it because that made his brain feel like it was sloshing about inside his skull. "No," he moaned, squirming under the covers. "But I'm sore _everywhere_ and itchy and I feel rotten and I want my painkiller."

"Didn't you bring some from school?"

"I ran out."

"When?"

"Yesterday. I want a bath, I need to wash away the ants."

"You need your potion," Gabriel told him. "You're going through withdrawal."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm going to be talking to your school nurse about giving children addictive substances. In the mean time, we'll get your more; even that's safer than stopping cold. Do you know what the potion was called?"

Harry told him and Gabriel helped him to the bathroom while Lorna went to find Jennifer to visit the family healer. Jennifer was back by the time Harry had bathed and within an hour of downing the potion he was feeling better.

"Am I a drug addict then?" he asked Gabriel after taking it, tucked back in bed with his wet hair fluffing about his head.

"Through no fault of your own," Gabriel said with a frown, "you have developed an addiction. You're not some hapless street junkie."

Harry considered this, then asked thoughtfully, "I might have been, mightn't I? That guy you and Lorna saved me from the night I ran away from the Dursleys, he gave me heroin you said and that's one of those really bad drugs. I'd have been a hapless street junkie if I stayed with him, wouldn't I?"

"Possibly, but also through no fault of your own, and as you said, we saved you from such a fate."

"I was a bit stupid for believing it was a special sugar," Harry mused.

"You were seven, you could hardly be expected to know about hard drugs."

"I guess. Do you think that taking it is why I got addicted to this potion, though?"

Gabriel shook his head, smiling slightly. "That's not how addiction works. You're hooked on this potion because you've been taking it lots. We'll speak to your school nurse and the family healer, and hopefully wean you off it and put you on something else, if your legs are still causing you pain."

But after several confrontations, Gabriel was unhappily forced to accept that the potion Harry was currently on was the best for him. For the amount of pain relief he needed, very few potions or pills were non-addictive and all of those were unsuitable for people under eighteen, but the one he was on at the moment had the lowest rate of relapse or psychological addiction and, when properly weaned off it, caused minimal harm when stopped.

The summer term began and Harry had only six weeks left until his OWLs. The time seemed to pass in a flash and on the first of June Harry left breakfast and waited in the Entrance Hall with the fifth and seventh years while the Great Hall was prepared for their Charms exam. He felt incredibly self-conscious standing around with so many older students, very aware of them looking at him and talking. It made him feel nervous about the exam, doubtful as to whether he was really up to par with these much older students.

He was glad when the hall doors opened again and they were called in, the seventh years first by alphabetical order, then the fifth years, and finally him. A giant hourglass sat at the front of the hall, with rows of individual desks where the house dining tables used to be. Harry sat at the desk at the end of a row, nearest the corner of the room, and the exam paper was face down before him. One of the examiners looked them over, making sure everyone was settled, then tapped their wand to the hourglass and said, "You may begin."

* * *

Two hours later the exam let out and Harry left, not feeling a modicum of his earlier nerves, confident in his answers. He ate heartily at lunch and told his curious housemates that the OWLs weren't actually as frightful as the older students had been making them out to be in past weeks.

After lunch, he and the upper years waited in the chamber off the side of the Great Hall and got called through in small groups to take the practical. Those left behind muttered incantations to themselves and practised wand movements, varying expressions of nerves and determination on their faces as they went through. Once again Harry was one of the last called, going in with Emilie Walters, Percy Weasley, and Oliver Wood.

"Over to Professor Tofty, Potter-Valentine," Flitwick told Harry, gesturing to a table behind which sat an old, bald man who sat up straighter when Harry walked over.

"Ah, Harry Potter-Valentine, isn't it?" he said, consulting his notes. "Just a first year, aren't you? Quite unexpected, quite unexpected, but Professor Dumbledore speaks very well of you, so lets see shall we? If you could just turn this rat orange for me..."

It went as perfectly as it possibly could, Harry thought, and he couldn't help a swelling pride at the clear expressions of impressed surprise the examiners had at seeing him perform the spells so well.

The next day he took his Transfiguration exam and on Thursday it was Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had Wednesday free and was permitted to miss his classes to study for the OWL, but on Friday he was back to normal lessons, where the first years were preparing for their own upcoming end of year exams. They took these the following week. Harry sat idly in Transfiguration and Charms while his class mates made pineapples tap dance and turned mice into snuffboxes, but he had to take the Potions test and it didn't go well; they were making Forgetfulness Potions and his came out far too watery.

The last few weeks of term were far more relaxed in most of their classes. Flitwick taught them fun charms and Gareth let them brew interesting potions. For the last Potions lesson of the year he told them to bring their pets along so they could try out a potion that temporarily enabled the animals to talk.

"Don't expect miracles, though," Gareth warned as they eagerly brewed away. "I'm sure Mr Potter-Valentine can tell you that animals are not actually very loquacious."

"What's loquacious mean, sir?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Anyone have an answer for Miss Brown's question? Miss Granger?"

"It means talkative, sir."

"Correct. Take five points for Gryffindor. Mr Potter-Valentine, would you mind sharing what Samantha talks about?"

"Food and sleep mostly, sir," Harry said with a grin.

"The focus of many animals," Gareth remarked. "Including hum-"

"Oi! Get away! Leave him alone!"

Everyone looked around as Ron Weasley snatched up his rat in one hand and with the other lifted his ladle overhead. Gareth grabbed his wrist before he could bring the ladle down on the snake slithering over the desk, while Harry quickly snatched Samantha away. He hadn't noticed her slithering out of her travel box, which he must not had shut the lid on properly, but since the winter holidays she'd become more interested in the school, curiosity roused as she matured.

"Mr Weasley, harming another student's pet is not looked upon kindly in this school," Gareth scolded, letting go of Ron's arm.

"It was gonna eat Scabbers, sir!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry retorted, glaring whilst Samantha coiled around his wrist. "Samantha only eats frozen mice, and even if your rat _was_ dead it's much too big for her to eat." She was just over two feet long at this point and a couple of inches thick, whilst Ron's rat was a great big fat thing, who didn't seem the slightest bit threatened by his close encounter with a snake. Indeed, it was sleeping peacefully despite swinging by the tail from Ron's hand.

" _Rat man,_ " Samantha hissed at Harry. She'd squirmed up his arm and poked her head out the collar of his robes. " _Rat man_."

" _What?_ "

"See! It's probably telling him right now how delicious it thinks Scabbers would be."

"That's enough, Mr Weasley," Gareth said. "No one's pet is eating anyone else's, I assure you. Continue brewing, please."

They got on with it. As not everyone had a pet, they were working in pairs and anyone who didn't have a pet was put with someone who did, but more people did have an animal with them so Harry was together with Anita and her owl, Rajni. By the end of the class, the room was filled with owls speaking in strange squawking voices about wanting to fly, cats making strange mewling demands to sleep or eat, and two toads croaking about flies.

Only Samantha had something more to say. "Rat man!" she insisted, and it sounded strange to Harry's ears to hear it in plain English. "Rat man, rat man, rat man!"

"That snake's obsessed with my rat," Ron said, still shooting Samantha hateful glares. "Don't worry, Scabbers, I won't let it eat you."

"Too bloody small to eat me," squeaked Scabbers, and everyone stared at him. It was the most comprehensive sentence any animal in the room had spoken. "I'd claw out her eyes."

Ron looked surprised, but then grinned proudly. "Hah! I knew Scabbers was special. Fred and George always said he was useless, but obviously he's pretty clever."

"Rat man," Samantha hissed, nipping at Harry's ear painfully enough to make him yelp and grab at it, nearly smacking Samantha. "Harry—rat is a man. Rat is a man."

"Rat is...?" Harry stared at Scabbers. "Samantha, do you mean the rat is a man pretending to be a rat?" he asked quietly.

"Yes! Yes, rat is man, rat is man."

"Sir—!"

"I heard, Harry," Gareth said, but so had Scabbers. All of a sudden, he twisted out of Ron's grip and dropped to the floor. This was too much for the rest of the animals; for all Ron's concern about Samantha, it was the cats and owls who had an interest in eating Scabbers and pandemonium descended on the room as several hungry birds and felines all lunged for the scurrying rat, whilst their owners tried to grab them. Trevor the toad escaped Neville, who cried for everyone to please not tread on him, while Ron was down on his hands and knees trying to save Scabbers from the cats and owls.

Fortunately, Gareth was quick thinking and cast a powerful charm that froze every living thing in their place aside from himself. He carefully ducked around people and pets, picked up Trevor from under Neville's own frozen foot and put the toad on a table, then scooped up Scabbers from where he was an inch away from disappearing into a mouse hole. He took the rat to his desk at the front of the class, transfigured an empty ink pot into a cage, and put the rat inside it, carefully locking it before turning his attention back to the class and dispelling the freezing charm. Pandemonium resumed for a moment, then:

"SILENCE!"

Everyone froze again, but naturally this time, hands locked around cat scruffs and owl bellies, turning their heads to look at Gareth while struggling to keep a hold of their pets.

"Sir, Scabbers—"

"Is here, Mr Weasley. Everyone else, please pack up your things and go. Throw away your potions; you'll not be graded on today's work. Your pets should stop talking within the hour. Mr Potter-Valentine, could you go to the headmaster's office and ask him to summon a couple of Aurors, preferably including Sirius Black, and come down to my office. Mr Weasley, you'll accompany me there."

Harry left Anita to clear up their work from the day—they'd used her cauldron, after all—and hurried out the dungeon, making his way quickly up to the seventh floor. Dumbledore's office was behind a stone gargoyle, but only when he skidded to a halt in front of it did he realise he didn't know the password.

"I need to see the headmaster urgently!" he told the stone. It didn't move. "The school is in danger, you stupid stone! Oh, bugger it."

He drew his wand, but whether the gargoyle realised that or it picked up on his urgency, it jumped aside and Harry hurried up the revolving staircase. At the top, he knocked hard with the griffin doorknocker, and rushed inside when Dumbledore called for admittance. He was standing by his desk, feeding treats to Fawkes the phoenix.

"Harry, how nice to see you. What can I do for you?"

"Professor Martin wants you to summon some Aurors and come to his office, quickly, sir."

"What a request! Can you tell me why?" Dumbledore asked even as he dropped the rest of the treats onto Fawkes' perch and moved over to the fireplace.

"We were making Chatty Chimp Decoctions in class, sir, and Samantha—my snake—she said that Ron Weasley's rat was actually a man pretending to be a rat, and I think she's right because that rat spoke a whole proper sentence when none of the other animals can." He paused, then added, "Except Samantha, but I've been teaching her to talk for a whole year."

Dumbledore looked gravely surprised by this news and asked for no more details before Floo calling the Ministry of Magic. In fifteen minutes, Sirius Black and Kingsley Shacklebolt were in the office and the four of them headed down to the dungeons.

"What's the deal with this intruder then, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked. "Not another possessed Defence teacher?"

"No. Harry, would you tell the Aurors what you told me?"

Harry repeated his story, but when he mentioned that Scabbers the rat was believed to be a human in hiding, Sirius stopped short, an expression of stunned disbelief on his face as he stared at Harry.

"A man pretending to be a rat? You're certain?"

"Samantha thinks so, Mr Black. That's my snake."

"Do you know something, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked. Sirius licked at dry lips.

"I... no, I don't think so. It... no."

He said nothing more, but walked faster the rest of the way to the dungeon. At Gareth's office, they found the Potion Master pacing the length of his office while Ron sat in a chair looking nervous, an expression made worse by the arrival of the headmaster and two Aurors. Gareth stopped pacing to greet them solemnly and gesture to the cage on his desk, in which Scabbers sat trembling. Sirius went right to it, bending to peer in at the rat.

"Merlin's beard," he breathed.

"Sirius?"

Ignoring Dumbledore, Sirius opened the cage, pulled the rat out and gestured for everyone to give him some space. Scabbers squirmed furiously, squeaking manically and struggling to escape his grip, and Gareth shut the door and put up a charm to seal any mouse holes or other possible escapes.

"Sir, what are you doing to my rat?"

"Nothing that'll hurt him if he's really a rat," Sirius answered Ron. He drew his wand, aimed it at Scabbers, and a flash of blue-white light burst out the end. Sirius let go and for a moment Scabbers remained suspended in midair, then he dropped to the floor, there was another burst of light, and within seconds Scabbers was replaced by a short, fat man with a pointy nose and thinning grey hair. He whimpered rather squeakily, glancing around at everyone nervously.

"Peter..." Sirius croaked, staring at him. "You're... you're alive."

"S-S-Sirius. My friend... my old friend..."

"Peter, what... have you spent the last ten years living as Wormtail?"

"Wormtail?" Dumbledore said lightly, but his expression made it clear that he wanted an explanation of just what was going on and he wanted it soon.

"Nickname we gave him in school," Sirius answered, glancing a tad nervously at the headmaster. "We, er... we were Animagi. Peter, James, and I."

"My dad was an Animagus?" Harry said, stunned. No one had ever told him that. "What did he turn into?"

"A stag."

"Information I am stunned to learn," Dumbledore said, "but I am more interested as to why you, Peter, have spent a decade pretending to be the pet of the Weasley family. We had all thought you were dead."

It was only then that Harry realised the rat man must be Peter Pettigrew, the man Remus Lupin was meant to have killed the same night he betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort.

"I was hiding!" Pettigrew cried, beady eyes darting from person to person, lingering on Gareth, who stood leant against the office door. "Hiding from Remus, and all the other Death Eaters."

"For ten years? My dear man, surely you heard that Remus Lupin was put in prison by none other than Sirius himself. He's absolutely comatose and no threat to you, or anyone else."

"But there are others! Death Eaters you never caught! I was afraid!"

"Enlighten me," Gareth said, not moving from the door. "Why would the Death Eaters be so eager to kill you?"

"Well, I-I-I worked against them," Pettigrew stuttered, cheeks blotchy. "Part of the resistance."

"Dumbledore's resistance. I heard of it, but I imagine a number of people were part of that group and none of them elected to spend ten years as a rat."

"I was scared!"

"Yes, so you said." Gareth's voice practically dripped with venom. Harry didn't often think of the fact that he was a second cousin to Snape, but right now Gareth strongly reminded Harry of how Snape had been every time he spoke to the Dursleys. "Remarkable. I thought you were a Gryffindor."

Pettigrew flushed scarlet, looking down at his hands and mumbling something indeterminate.

"What happened the night James and Lily died, Peter?" Sirius asked. "I went to your flat—it was a mess—blood everywhere, too much for anyone to survive..."

"Faked, presumably," Gareth said.

"I didn't ask you," Sirius snapped. "Keep out of it, Martin."

"Why should I keep out of it, Sirius?" Gareth snapped back. "For ten years that _man_ —" he spat the word "—has been masquerading as the pet of my students. A grown man sneaking his way into the beds of young boys? Why should I think anything but the worst?"

Harry and Ron frowned, not understanding what Gareth meant by that, but the adults looked severe and Pettigrew's eyes went wide.

"No! No, I never! Don't you accuse me of being a—a—a _nonce_."

"What's a nonce?" Ron asked.

"A paedophile," Gareth answer, still glaring at Pettigrew.

"Oh," Ron said, looking extremely uncomfortable at the implication. "But, er... he never did anything like that to me, Professor. I never even knew he wasn't a real rat before today, and I'm pretty sure Percy didn't either when he had him."

"There, see—I'm innocent."

Gareth scoffed.

"I believe you, mate," Sirius said, "but seriously, what happened back then? Where you really so afraid of Remus you faked your death?"

Pettigrew nodded vigorously. "I knew he'd be after me, Sirius, as soon as I heard about Lily and James. I knew you and me'd be next."

"As soon as you heard..."

"Yes, yes. I was distraught, Sirius, and terrified. I didn't want him killing me too, so I faked my death and went into hiding."

"From the Death Eaters. Even after you heard what I did to Remus."

"Call me a coward if you want, but you saw the results of what they did to the people they went after."

"Yes," Sirius murmured, "I did. I'm not going to call you a coward, Pete. We were friends, after all. Spent seven years sharing a dorm, didn't we?"

Pettigrew nodded, looking relieved, an expression that vanished at Sirius' next words.

"The thing is, Pete, you might not be a coward, but I know your kind of bravery. You weren't the 'sneak in and fill the headmaster's office with puffskeins' kind of brave. You were 'distract said headmaster while James and I snuck in to fill his office with puffskeins' brave."

"What—what you getting at, Sirius?"

"What I'm getting at is—and you have no idea how much I hate to say this, Pete—is that Martin has a point. There were a lot of people in the Order, and nearly all of them had a bigger reason to fear the Death Eaters specifically targeting them, but they've spent the last ten years happily getting on with their lives."

"W-w-well I—that is..."

"There's something else," Sirius went on, ignoring Pettigrew's stuttering. "You say you faked your death _after_ Lily and James died, but I went to your flat _before_ they were attacked."

Silence. Harry didn't quite understand what Sirius was getting at, and judging by Ron's expression he didn't either, but he understood that it was important and somehow related to his parents' deaths. Sirius and Gareth stared at Pettigrew with equal levels of disgust, while Kingsley was frowning and Dumbledore had a misleadingly calm expression.

Pettigrew gave a short, nervous laugh. "I-I don't... well, I... I must have been confused. Or you are. It was a terrible night, Sirius. Maybe you're mixing things—"

"I'm not mixing things up, Peter. Trust me, I remember everything that happened that night in painful detail. The Death Eaters liked to get out on Hallowe'en, you remember—easy to got lost among the Muggles dressed up—and after I helped Moody deal with a bunch in Suffolk I went by your place to check you were alright. I found your front door unlocked and the entire place ransacked and covered in blood. Nothing left of you but a toe. I guess I hoped that it was someone else's blood so I went to the Potters'. I wasn't in on the Secret of their house, but I knew they were in Godric's Hollow, still living in James' parents' old cottage. Only I got there to find the Fidelius Charm down, the house in ruins, and..."

"And my parents dead," Harry finished quietly.

"Yes." Sirius cleared his throat, glancing at Harry then away again. "Hagrid was there and I watched him take Harry—leant him my bike to do it—"

"Wait, Hagrid the old gamekeeper?" Harry interrupted. "Why was he there? Where did he take me?"

"I sent him to pick you up," Dumbledore answered. "As soon as word reached me of the tragedy and your remarkable survival, I sent him to fetch you to safety."

"Safety?" Harry repeated, incredulous. "You thought _Hagrid_ was the person to bring me to safety? He's practically a giant, he could have crushed me! He was arrested for possessing an illegal dragon egg. How could you entrust _him_ with my safety?"

"Quite easily," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Despite his indiscretion with the dragon egg, I trust Hagrid implicitly and he did succeed in securing you and bringing you to me at your aunt's home. Sirius, please continue."

Sirius nodded. "Like I said, I gave Hagrid my bike, and then I went to find Remus. I never even gave him chance to defend himself, but he got a few words out and he was surprised when I said you were dead, Peter. I thought he was faking at the time, but it's obvious now that he wasn't. But d'you know what else he said, Pete? He said _let me explain_."

"E-explain what? He was trying to stall you, Sirius," Pettigrew said. "Trying to give himself chance to kill you."

"You think? Because I'm beginning to think that maybe he wanted to explain that he didn't betray Lily and James."

"Ridiculous!" Pettigrew cried at the same moment Harry gave a wordless noise of protest. "He was their Secret Keeper!"

"Um, excuse me?" Ron said nervously, half raising his hand as if in class. "What's a Secret Keeper?"

Dumbledore briefly explained the Fidelius Charm, and then said, "Sirius, what are you getting at?"

Sirius hadn't take his eyes off Pettigrew. "We all thought Remus was the Secret Keeper, and we wanted the Death Eaters to think _I_ was. I was James' best friend, after all; who else would he choose? Not many people knew we had a bit of a falling out when Harry was born."

"What about?" Harry asked, curious. Sirius glanced at him, looking a little caught off guard.

"Er... well... you. He wanted me to be your godfather and I refused."

"Why?"

"Didn't think I'd be suited," he said shortly, and got back to what he was talking about. "What if we were all wrong? What if neither Remus or I was the Secret Keeper?"

Everyone looked at Pettigrew, who shrunk back slightly, eyes darting nervously between them all, once again lingering on the door Gareth stood in front of.

"D-d-don't be ridiculous," he said with a weak, forced laugh. "M-me, Secret Keeper?"

"Why not?" Sirius asked him. "You were our friend, too; you were just as trusted as me and Remus. More so, maybe. James and Lily didn't even trust me enough to tell me the Secret. And it makes sense when you think about it. We all knew there was a spy in the Order for months before Lily and James died, and I don't know why I never thought it was you."

"A spy! I was not—I never—!"

"Weren't you? Because it makes sense, now that I think about it. Remus spent a lot of time researching for the Order, but he was starting to ingratiate himself with the other werewolves at that point, too. He travelled to libraries and to various werewolf packs, which made him an easy target for the Death Eaters, but it also meant he didn't spend a lot of time around us—around Lily and James and Harry. You, on the other hand, rarely went anywhere by yourself and you spent a lot of time hanging about with them in that last year. What use is a spy who spends all his time with his nose in a book, or who's too busy to even spend much time with his godson?

"And it fits with what I said earlier," Sirius said, now staring hatefully at Pettigrew. "You weren't brave enough to go out and fight head on, but you're the kind of bloke who'd scurry about behind the scenes, feeling special about passing information around. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus and James... but maybe you decided Voldemort was bigger and better, so you started passing information."

"Me, a spy... must be out of your mind... never... don't know how you can say such a—"

"Because it makes sense!" Sirius yelled, making Harry, Ron, and Pettigrew jump. "It explains why you'd fake your death _before_ James and Lily died and why you'd be so scared of the Death Eaters that you'd spend ten years living as a rat. You spent a year secretly passing information to them and then your big chance comes. You get made Secret Keeper. You can finally give Voldemort what he really wants—the Potters. You sell them out, expecting to become the big bad hero, praised above all other Death Eaters, only it goes wrong and Voldemort vanishes. Suddenly all those Death Eaters are going to want to know why Voldemort was destroyed by information _you_ gave him. You faked your death to hide from Remus and me because you knew we'd kill you for betraying Lily and James, but after Voldemort fell and I put Remus in prison, you went on pretending to hide from _them_ , not me."

"It's not true!" Pettigrew wailed. "It's not true! I never betrayed them! I wasn't a spy! You're mad, Sirius, making up stories."

"It's easy enough to verify," Gareth said. He moved away from the door—Pettigrew inched towards it only for Kingsley to plant himself in the way—and went to his private potions cabinet. He opened it up, looked through, and pulled out a vial of clear liquid. "Veritaserum."

Pettigrew went ashen. "T-That's—you can't! That's not allowed, you can't make me drink that."

"But Mr Pettigrew, if you're innocent, you surely have nothing to fear," Dumbledore said, smiling sedately.

Ron sidled up to Harry and asked in a whisper, "Do you know what Veritaserum is?"

"Truth potion," Harry whispered back.

"I still have secrets to keep," Pettigrew insisted. "Just because I'm not a spy doesn't mean I want to tell you everything."

"I promise you, no one will ask you anything that isn't pertinent to the war against Voldemort or the deaths of Lily and James Potter."

"Well, that's... I mean, I..."

"Surely you trust the word of Albus Dumbledore?" Gareth said.

"Of course I do! But not you! I don't know you, what if that's poison?"

Gareth looked amused. "In front of two Aurors and the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot? What kind of idiot do you think I am?"

Pettigrew mumbled something unclear.

"Open up, Peter," Sirius said, advancing on him with his wand drawn. "Prove me wrong."

Pettigrew squeaked, backing away, and then with a pop he vanished and a rat appeared in his place. It scurried around the room, searching for rat holes to escape through, but there were none and with four fully grown wizards it was all too easy for them to catch him and force him back into his human form again. They manhandled him into one of the chairs in front of Gareth's desk and Sirius and Kingsley held him still whilst Gareth dripped three drops of the Veritaserum into his mouth. In moments, Pettigrew stopped fighting and went slack, his gaze unfocused.

"Can you hear me, Peter?" Sirius asked.

"Yes."

"Were you—" He hesitated, uncertain about having his theory verified, but he braced himself and went on, "Were you a spy for Lord Voldemort during the war?"

"Yes."

Harry gasped, staring wide eyed. Gareth put a hand on his shoulder.

"Were you the Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter?"

"Yes."

"Did you betray them to Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"You bastard!" Harry shrieked, throwing himself forwards and slamming his fists against Pettigrew hard enough to knock the wind from him. "You bastard, you killed them! I'll kill you, I'll kill you!"

He tried to yank his wand from the holster, but Gareth grabbed him, one arm around his waist, the other hand clutching Harry's wrist, struggling to hold him back as Harry fought and screamed.

"I think the children have seen enough," Dumbledore said firmly, opening the door. "Gareth, take them out. Mr Weasley, return to Gryffindor, but please say nothing of what happened here just yet."

Ron nodded, staring worriedly at Harry as Gareth forcibly dragged him out of the office still kicking and screaming. He headed off towards Gryffindor, but when he glanced back just before the steps leading up to the Entrance Hall, it was to see Harry collapsing against Gareth and bursting into tears.

* * *

Lucius had no trouble accessing his sister-in-law's Gringotts vault. The goblins and their entire bank system were completely separate from the Ministry of Magic, so the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange was a high security Azkaban prisoner meant nothing to them. All Lucius needed was Bellatrix's written permission to allow him access to her vault, and the hardest part about that was getting Bellatrix to hold the quill steady enough that her handwriting was legible.

The Dementors didn't bother him anymore. He thought they would be unbearable after Draco and Narcissa's deaths, but they hardly affected him. He wasn't totally sure why, but perhaps it was because he spent every moment of his life now plagued with unpleasant memories, or because he was so intently focused on his new cause that they simply couldn't torment him. Whatever it was, it made walking up to Bellatrix's cell and boldly lying to her much easier. He told her he needed whatever it was Voldemort had given her twenty years ago so that he could resurrect their master and get revenge on Dumbledore for Narcissa and Draco's death. Bellatrix was in no state to analyse his words or question his motives, and she gladly wrote out her permission and added a mark of blood that would authenticate it for the goblins.

He retrieved the golden cup without trouble and returned to Malfoy Manor to examine it. For several months, he examined every little detail of it—carefully, because he'd already spent a couple of months reading up on all manner of dark magical items and he was almost certain of what it was: a Horcrux. It was the only thing he'd read about that matched what he knew about Tom Riddle's diary, and he'd wanted to figure out what exactly a Horcrux was before he collected the cup Bellatrix had been given. Voldemort had given it to her around the same time he gave Lucius the diary, so he figured there was a connection between them, and after minutely examining the cup he was certain of it. This, too, was a Horcrux. A piece of Voldemort's soul that prevented him from ever truly dying.

And Lucius knew it wouldn't be the last. If Voldemort had made two, he'd made more. His fondness of magically significant numbers and symbols was no secret among the Death Eaters. Lucius was willing to stake his life on there being no less than six Horcruxes. He _was_ staking his life on it; if he failed in this then Voldemort would undoubtedly kill him in brutally painful ways.

All he had to do now was find the rest.

* * *

Afterwards, Harry didn't say much about what had happened. What was there to say? So his parents betrayer had been someone previously thought dead. It didn't change anything for him. James and Lily were still dead. Remus Lupin was still comatose and, because St Mungo's was extremely unwilling to house a comatose werewolf, still in the Black Prison, albeit under notably less security and no longer earmarked for the Dementor's Kiss if he ever woke up. The only thing different was that Peter Pettigrew was now in prison, soulless and locked in a specially enchanted cell to prevent the Animagus transformation, but that didn't change things for Harry.

The school year ended and Slytherin won the house cup. Harry and Tori spent one night and day in the London townhouse and on the second night took a Portkey to their holiday home in Greece. It was later in the year than they normally went and the difference was noticeable; when Jennifer took Harry and Tori out during the day, there were a lot more tourists about, and especially children—people out on their summer holidays that, in previous years, the Valentines never dealt with because they usually holidayed while school was still in session.

It didn't make it any less enjoyable, although Harry had a couple more arguments about concealing his leg scars. As much as he hated looking at them himself, he was even more adamantly against letting anyone else see them, and it was far too warm for him to go around in trousers. Eventually he reached a reluctant agreement to not wear the charms when he was at their home, but he still put them on whenever he left the house and might be seen by other people.

His OWL results came just two weeks into the holiday and he was overjoyed to get an O in all three, the highest grade possible. They were still in Greece for his birthday and he was utterly delighted to open his presents to find a sleek black Nimbus 2001 broomstick—the newest and best model available. It flew like a dream and he had every intention of trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team in the upcoming school year.

They returned to England some weeks later, by which time their Hogwarts letters had been delivered and were waiting at the Manor for them. Harry's booklist differed ever so slightly from Tori's—he would now be studying advanced Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts—and his letter also mentioned that, if he wished, he could take his NEWTs the following summer.

 _Being so far advanced in your spell casting_ [wrote Professor McGonagall] _, it would be possible for you to study the required two years of theoretical magic in just one year. This would still require intense study and you are not obligated to take the NEWT exams in all, or any, of the three subjects._

But Harry saw no reason not to try. Taking the exams at twelve would make him the youngest person to ever receive a NEWT qualification (he looked it up) and he quite liked the idea of making such an achievement.

They took a few days to settle back in at home before Jennifer took them to Diagon Alley for their school shopping. Tori met up with her friends Lisa and Padma from Ravenclaw and they were allowed to wander around the alley together. Harry had written to his own friends, but Anita had already done her shopping and Theo had a family emergency, so after Tori waved goodbye at the Leaky Cauldron and ran off with her friends, Harry wandered through Diagon Alley with Jennifer, picking up more potion supplies, fresh ink and quills, and a pair of Quidditch gloves that he insisted he needed if he was to fly at his best in the Quidditch try outs.

They met up with Tori and her friends in Flourish and Blotts, which was absolutely packed with people. The reason for this was the guest appearance of Gilderoy Lockhart, a famous adventurer and novelist. Harry was eager just to get his school books—which included all of Lockhart's works, with the exception of his newly published autobiography—but Tori insisted on queueing up to get the man's autograph. Worried Tori would get lost or hurt in the crowd, Jennifer insisted on staying with her and reluctantly left Harry alone at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour across the road.

Watching the door of the bookshop as he ate his sundae, Harry saw Ron Weasley come out the store with his friend Seamus Finnigan and closely followed by his older twin brothers, a man who had to be their father, and a young girl who must have been Ron's sister.

"Can you believe that idiot is going to be teaching at Hogwarts this year?" Seamus said incredulously as the group stood about, apparently waiting for others still inside the shop.

"Can't be worse than Umbridge or Quirrell, right?" Ron replied.

Seamus snorted, twisting around idly on the heels of his feet. He stopped when he noticed Harry, scowling.

"What are you looking at, Potter?"

Harry shrugged and went on with his sundae. But Seamus' words caught the rest of the group's attention. Ron looked over coolly, but said nothing; in the week between the Scabbers revelation and the end of term, he hadn't been outright rude or mean to Harry, but they would never be friends. The girl, who was carrying a slightly battered looking cauldron full of even more battered looking books, promptly dropped said cauldron and blushed bright red. The twins gave Harry an uncaring glance, but their father whirled about, caught sight of Harry, and stared.

"Good heavens!" he said, and then hurried over. "Harry Potter! What a pleasure to meet you."

"It's Potter-Valentine, sir," Harry told him politely.

"Oh, yes, the adoption, I heard about that. Quite the shock, hearing you'd been adopted by vampires. Quite strange to live with, I imagine."

"Not at all, Mr Weasley. It's—"

"Harry Potter adopted by vampires, did you just say? _The_ Harry Potter?"

Harry turned. At the table behind him sat a rotund older wizard and a lanky younger man. Both men looked at first surprised by his werewolf scars and then stunned by the lightning bolt on his forehead, and then excited.

"God's above, it's really him!" the older man said. "You see that, Rog, it's Harry Potter!"

"Potter-Val-"

"And adopted by vampires, you say? I didn't even think that was _allowed_."

"It is," Harry said shortly, starting to rise from his seat. He'd rather battle the crowd in Flourish and Blotts than deal with this, but the man's voice had carried and a number of people were turning towards him now. Before Harry knew it, he was being swamped by people wanting to shake his hand, just like they had in the Leaky Cauldron a year earlier. Three different people offered to buy him an ice cream and two more just went ahead and ordered one for him. Everyone felt it necessary to give their input on his being adopted by vampires (mostly negative) and some people even asked for his autograph, which he was still trying to politely refuse when Fred Weasley dropped a couple of dungbombs and everyone quickly decided it was time to move on.

"Do be more careful in future, Fred," Mr Weasley said, pinching his nose, but Fred winked at Harry, who realised he'd dropped it on purpose and muttered a thanks, hoping it didn't mean Fred thought Harry owed him anything. He'd never had any interaction with the Weasley twins, but wasn't sure he wanted to be considered a friend to them any more than an enemy.

Tori and Jennifer finally came out of Flourish and Blotts and Harry gratefully followed them back to the Leaky Cauldron. Tori was clutching a signed copy of Lockhart's autobiography and wasted no time in repeating what Harry heard Seamus say about Lockhart taking up the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts, albeit with much more pleasure.

"I'm a bit surprised," Jennifer said as they headed for the Leaky Cauldron. "I hadn't thought Lockhart would be much of the teacher sort. His books read more like novels than instruction manuals."

"But he's _amazing_ ," Tori said. "He's done so much stuff."

"Including torment a vampire," Harry pointed out.

Tori's smile vanished. "Yeah, well, not everyone's perfect," she muttered.

Back home, Harry mentioned the incident at Fortescue's to his parents and added thoughtfully, "I'm kind of surprised one of the gossip rags hasn't done anything about me and the adoption yet. Not that I want them too," he added quickly, "but everyone else treats me like a celebrity so I'm surprised the tabloids haven't."

"Oh, they tried," Lorna said airily, whilst Gabriel smiled smugly behind his book. "Some woman came around last year a few days after you went to school. Irritating woman. What was her name, Gabriel?"

"Rita Skeeter."

"That's the one. She wanted to do an exposé on our whole family so your father sent her away under the seduction and bought the newspaper."

"You _bought_ the newspaper?" Tori repeated, shocked. "Why?"

"Best way to ensure they don't print anything unpleasant about us," Gabriel told her. "It's bad enough when some historian gets it into their head to publish a book about me; I'll not have the tabloids spreading lies about our home life or dragging your brother any further into the spotlight than he already is."

Harry spent most of the last week of the holiday practising his flying and swimming as much as he could before he had to return to the pool-less Hogwarts. It seemed to pass in a flash and before he knew it he was back at Hogwarts, settled at the Slytherin table and watching the new first years get sorted.

Harry ended up being at the empty end of the Slytherin table and therefore nearest his new housemates. The first one to join them was a haughty looking boy named Orion Devaux, who looked over Harry's scarred face with undisguised disgust. Soon enough they were joined by several others, including someone named Tyler Swift whose gender Harry couldn't figure out. When Harry first saw them, he assumed they were a girl, but then thought the name Tyler was more boyish, however when the hat declared them a Slytherin and they came and sat opposite Harry, he once again thought they might be a girl. Their appearance was incredibly androgynous, but Harry didn't want to ask in case they thought he was being rude.

The last boy to be sorted was Cid Villiers and when the hat declared him a Slytherin, he came over and exchanged a complex handshake with Tyler that ended with them headbutting each other and grinning.

"Old friends?" asked Harry, watching them, whilst Ginny Weasley was called up to be sorted.

"Brothers," Tyler corrected, still grinning, which solved the gender problem, but for the first time in his life Harry felt the surprise he imagined other people must feel when he and Tori introduced themselves as siblings. Cid was tall, broad, and had dark-olive skin, with brown eyes and short dark hair, whereas Tyler was small, slim, and very white, with green-blue eyes and light brown hair hanging to his shoulders.

Knowing better than to comment on their physical differences, Harry still couldn't help mentioning, "But your names..."

"Step-brothers," Cid said, waving his hand dismissively, "but that's just semantics."

Ginny Weasley was the last person to be sorted and everyone, including Harry, expected her to go straight to Gryffindor with her brothers. They were all surprised, therefore, when nearly a full minute passed before the brim of the Sorting Hat opened and it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Stunned silence filled the room. Opposite Harry, Tyler lifted his hands to clap, as did a few other first years, only to stop when they noticed no one else was.

"Er... is something wrong?"

"She's a Weasley," Harry told him.

"So?"

"So the whole family are Gryffindors. I don't think there's ever been a Weasley in Slytherin."

At the staff table, Dumbledore and Gareth started clapping. Gareth glared at the Slytherin table, who quickly brought their hands together as Ginny, looking shell-shocked, staggered over to the Slytherin table and dropped onto the bench. Another of the new girls, Jia Liao, leant forwards and said a few words that Harry didn't catch, and Ginny shook her head. She was very pale beneath her freckles, but when she glanced down the table and caught sight of Harry, she went bright red and quickly looked away again, but at the same time straightened her back slightly.

At the Gryffindor table, the Weasley boys were all gaping across the hall and as soon as the feast appeared, all four of them scrambled out of their seats and hurried across to the Slytherin table. They crowded around Ginny, talking in hushed, urgent whispers. Harry saw Ron grabbing Ginny's arm and tugging, apparently trying to forcibly remove her from the table. McGonagall and Gareth rose from their seats at the staff table, but before they could reach the students—

"If Slytherin is good enough for Harry Potter, it's good enough for me!"

Harry felt himself flush and stared down at his dinner, but he could feel the Weasley brothers staring holes in his head. They didn't stick around much longer, shooed away by McGonagall and Gareth, the latter of whom asked Ginny if she was alright and gave her a warm smile before returning to the staff table.

Someone prodded Harry in the back and he turned to see Tori leaning over from the Ravenclaw table, smirking.

"Looks like you've got a fan girl."

Harry scowled and jabbed her in the ribs, making her jerk and squeal.

"Git!"

He stuck his tongue out and turned back to his dinner.

"Who's that?" Tyler asked him. He wasn't eating, Harry noticed, just sipping at a goblet of water.

"Sister."

"Step?"

"Adopted. Both of us. Not hungry?"

Tyler shook his head. "I get travel sick and my potion ran out on the boat trip across the lake. I'm waiting for my stomach to settle before I eat."

Harry turned to Theo as Tyler joined his fellow first years in conversation, asking how his summer had been. Theo didn't look up from his food, which he picked at listlessly but didn't eat.

"My mother died," he muttered.

"Oh... I'm sorry, Theo... how...?"

"An accident. Fell downstairs."

"I'm sorry. Are you... okay?" Harry asked even though the answer was pretty obvious. Theo merely shrugged and said nothing else for the rest of the meal.

Tyler's appetite came back to him in time for dessert, and then the meal was over and everyone looked up at the staff table as Dumbledore got to his feet

"Now that you've eaten I'd like to make a few announcements. Mr Wallace would like me to remind you all that magic is not to be used in the corridors, and that the forest is strictly forbidden to all students. I would also like to introduce our newest member of staff, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Gilderoy Lockhart."

The applause for this announcement was thundering. A great deal of people stared dreamily at Lockhart, who stood up and bowed then waved, smiled, and blew kisses at them all. So focused with his adoring fans, he didn't notice that the other half of the students looked at him with disinterest or disgust. Harry had a very low opinion of the man; Gabriel had borrowed his copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ before the start of term, read it in a single day, and contacted a few people about the vampire mentioned in the book. When he found out that Dagr Wolff had walked into the sun after being forced into only eating lettuce—roughly equivalent to a human only being able to eat rabbit droppings—he was utterly furious. After all, it was one thing for humans to outright kill vampires, but something else entirely to torture them and essentially force them into committing suicide.

* * *

The second year Slytherins had Defence classes on Mondays and Friday, and as the first of September fell on a Tuesday that year, Lockhart already had two days to make a reputation for himself by the time they had their first class. A great many people were still enamoured by his fame, but many others were distinctly unimpressed. After dinner on Wednesday, Harry got a thrilling rendition from Anita about how Lockhart released a cage of Cornish Pixies in the Gryffindors' first class, all of which promptly wrecked havoc in the classroom.

"Me and Hermione had to sort them out," she told Harry as they sat out on the lawn, enjoying the evening sun. "Lockhart just left us to handle them all ourselves. He was completely useless, he couldn't do a thing."

"Not that hard for you, really?" he said. "Or did you have to pretend you couldn't handle them?"

"Not exactly. I've sort of figured out how to disguise my demon magic and make it look like wand magic, so I was able to do that."

"That's clever."

"Yeah. Besides, I'm not bad with a wand," she said proudly. "Hermione's still a know-it-all, but she's pretty good about helping me learn spells."

Tori also had less than stellar reviews about Lockhart's teaching, despite her hero worship.

"I know what he did to Dagr Wolff was awful," she was careful to tell Harry at lunch on Friday, "and I have to admit he spends more time talking about himself than teaching us stuff, but I think he's trying to use all his adventures as examples of how to fight the dark arts and just hasn't quite got the hang of it yet. I'm sure he'll get better."

Harry decided to reserve judgement on this, but the first class didn't impress him. The first thing Lockhart did was hand around a test for them all to take. As he laid one on Harry's desk, Harry stopped him to ask, "Sir, do I need to take this?"

Lockhart looked vaguely offended then his eyes noticed the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead and he smiled indulgently, showing a lot of shiny white teeth, and said, in a tone as if speaking to a very young child, "Harry, Harry, Harry. Being a celebrity doesn't get you out of your obligations. I'm sure you'll realise that when you're as famous as I am."

"That's not what I meant, sir," Harry said with a scowl, twisting in his seat as Lockhart carried on handing out the tests. "I took my OWL last year so I'm studying advanced level Defence theory. I normally do different work to everyone else."

"Oh, not to worry, not to worry," Lockhart said airily, now sweeping back up to the front of the room. "All my students take this test, so don't think I'm holding you back. You have half an hour. Start—now!"

Everyone looked down at the paper with expression of wariness, unencouraged by the idea that they were taking a test of the same level as the NEWT students, but it soon became clear why—the test didn't ask anything to do with actual Defence. It just had a lot of questions about Lockhart himself, like _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?_ and _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

They exchanged baffled looks, but bent over the parchment and begin writing. Harry, who'd barely flicked through the textbooks before the start of term, couldn't answer half the questions and found the whole thing very annoying. He was meant to be preparing for the toughest exams a young wizard could sit, not indulging the egocentrism of a narcissistic twerp.

When they were done, Lockhart drew attention to Harry's failings on the test, perhaps irritated by Harry speaking up at the start of class, but if he was hoping to make Harry look bad in front of his classmates he was sorely disappointed. After Quirrell and Umbridge, they didn't have much patience for more inept Defence teachers, so even Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, who thought Lockhart was very handsome and impressive, didn't care much for his self-indulgent teaching methods, if they could even be called that.

Obviously learning from the fiasco of the pixies with the Gryffindors, he had no live creatures in their class. Instead, he started reading from his book _Gadding with Ghouls_. When Harry pulled out _Confronting the Faceless_ , his own Defence textbook, Lockhart scolded him and made him put it away, saying that Harry clearly wasn't as advanced as he thought he was when he'd done so poorly on the test. He was so smugly condescendingly that Harry couldn't stop himself from talking back.

"I don't think there's _anything_ I can learn from you."

Lockhart blinked, startled, mouth dropping open slightly. "E-excuse me?" he said, and then puffed himself up indignantly. "Mr Potter, I—"

"Potter-Valentine."

" _I_ am a fully qualified wizard," Lockhart said as if Harry hadn't spoken, "with an Order of Merlin, Third Class. I'm an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award. You," he then said, lip curling with obvious dislike, "are just a little boy who's been told he's more special than he is."

"And you're an egocentric git who tortures people," Harry snapped at him, knowing even as he said it that it would get him punished. Daphne and Pansy gasped and glared at Harry, but Theo was smirking and Blaise was covering his mouth to hide a smile.

"How _dare_ you!" Lockhart gasped, looking much less handsome with his face twisting in outraged offence. "I! A torturer! I never!"

"You tortured Dagr Wolff."

Lockhart scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, boy. Dagr Wolff was nothing more than a vile murdering vampire. I saved an entire village from that raving monster."

"You should have killed him, or captured him for the Ministry to enact justice upon, not cursed him like you did. Do you even understand what you did to him?"

"Of course I under-"

"No, I don't think you do," Harry interrupted, uncaring of Lockhart's eyes narrowing hatefully. "Vampires can't actually die of starvation. If they don't get blood, they just wither away until they become living skeletons, and it's _painful_ and the hunger never, ever goes away, even when there's nothing left of them but skin and bone. So when you cursed Dagr Wolff into eating only lettuce, you forced him to starve half to death, at which point he decided it was be better just to walk into the sun. He committed suicide rather than live with what you did to him."

"It was his own fault!" Lockhart cried. "He was a cruel monster, and you will sit down and be quiet, Mr Potter. Don't speak about things you know nothing about."

"I know more about vampires than you do!"

"Impossible! You're just a child, you know nothing."

"My parents are vampires! I think I know _something_ about them."

Lockhart stared at him in shock, mouth hanging open, finally speechless. Harry leant back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest and staring up at the man with a smirk. Lockhart snapped his mouth shut and scowled.

"Detention, Potter."

"Potter- _Valentine_."

"And ten points from Slytherin. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

Harry said nothing more, but only so that he didn't put Slytherin into the negative on house points. He spent the entire rest of the lesson glaring at Lockhart and trying to figure out the best way to knock the bastard off his high horse.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Try-outs for the Slytherin Quidditch team were held on Saturday afternoon. The captain, a sixth year named Marcus Flint, spent much of the morning grumpily complaining about the Gryffindor team who'd secured the Quidditch pitch for the whole morning.

Although the team was only in need of two Chasers and a Beater, Flint still tested out people for all positions, rigorously pitting the previous year's Seeker Terrence Higgs, Keeper Miles Bletchley, and remaining Beater Lucian Bole against the hopeful try outs. Harry preferred to be a Seeker, but he would be happy to settle for playing as Chaser. After several hours of darting around the pitch, catching Quaffles and practice Snitches, Flint called them all down and surprised everyone with his decisions.

"Bletch, you're still Keeper. Montague, Pucey, you're the new Chasers with me," he told a couple of fourth years, who high-fived each other. "Warrington, Michaels, Finn, on reserve. Derrick, you're a Beater with Bole; Bowden and Tanner are reserves." Everyone else's shoulders slumped with disappointment, but then Flint added: "Potter-Valentine, you're Seeker. Higgs, reserve."

Harry gaped. Higgs looked furious.

"You're replacing me?"

"Yeah, I'm replacing you. Potter-Valentine flew better than you up there."

"That's bullshit!" Higgs yelled, tossing down his broom and stepping up to Flint so they stood nose to nose. "He's a second year; you can't kick me off the team for that little snot."

"I can and I am. Back off before I pull you from the reserve team as well!"

Higgs glared at him for a few moments more, fingers twitching like he wanted to go for his wand, but he apparently decided it wasn't worth it and turned away with a snort, snatching up his broom.

"Practice is Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and Saturday afternoons," Flint told the team. "Miss one and you get knocked to the reserves. Miss two and you get kicked entirely."

They nodded and traipsed off. Higgs purposely knocked into Harry as he stalked off the pitch and Harry made a mental note to keep an eye on him in future, just in case Higgs decided to sabotage Harry to get his spot back. He rubbed at his shoulder and glowered as the boy walked away, but he felt too pleased with himself to really let the older boy's attitude bother him. Even his detention that night—cleaning the outside panes of the greenhouses—couldn't squash his pride, though he was trembling and antsy by the time it was over because it was several hours past the usual time he took his evening dose of pain reliever.

Unofficial Defence clubs were once again being held in the common room in the evening. Even Lockhart's fans had to admit that when it came to actually teaching them anything, he was utterly useless. All the classes were being subject to the same curriculum of 'learning from my experiences'—which basically meant listening to Lockhart go on and on about his various adventures, or reading his books. Harry had taken up his usual task of studying his own stuff, something he was only able to get away with because Lockhart seemed to be doing his best to pretend that Harry didn't exist. Harry didn't mind this in the slightest; the advanced theory that he was now learning seemed a lot more difficult than what he'd been on the year before and he was glad to be able to just get on with things.

Tori's enthusiasm for the man had dropped considerably. She still thought he was very handsome and his adventures very exciting (with the exception of his attack on Dagr Wolff), but her Ravenclaw sensibilities and desire for a proper education overrode much of her crush on the man. Anita, by contrast, had absolutely nothing kind to say about him and complained to Harry regularly that if Hermione continued to crush on Lockhart then Anita would have to reconsider being friends with her.

Hallowe'en fell on a Saturday that year, and Harry was very grateful for it. The third years and up had a Hogsmeade weekend, so most of them were out of the castle for the day, but Harry had another reason for being glad it was a Saturday. A week earlier he wrote home to get his parents to request permission for his annual trip to Godric's Hollow, which they did, but a few days beforehand Harry went to Gareth's office to ask him about something he'd been thinking about for several months now.

"Harry, come in. What can I do for you?"

He sat in one of the chairs before Gareth's desk, picking at the knee of his robe. "I was wondering," he said hesitantly, "if you would take me somewhere on Saturday."

Gareth's eyebrows rose. "Somewhere other than Godric's Hollow? Where?" he asked when Harry nodded.

"Um… the Black Prison."

Gareth leant his arms on the desk, folded one over the other, and frowned at Harry. "Why?"

"To see Remus Lupin."

"There isn't much to see. He's comatose."

"I know. But he's my godfather, professor. I've spent pretty much forever hating him because everyone said he betrayed my birth parents to the Dark Lord, but now I know he didn't and I want to see him."

"Have you asked your parents about this?"

Harry shook his head before Gareth even finished asking. "He's a _werewolf_ , professor. They would never want me to see him."

"Then what makes you think I'll take you? I don't have their permission to take you anywhere other than Godric's Hollow."

"They don't have to know," Harry told him. "They won't know if we visit it before going to see my parents' grave. I won't tell them and if you don't then they'll never have reason to suspect I ever went. It's not like I _want_ Lupin to wake up. Even if he did, I'd never want to live with him or anything. I don't want him being an actual godfather to me because he's a werewolf, but I just… I want to see him."

"You know if I did that and your parents found out, they'd have me for dinner. Literally."

"We just have to make sure they never find out."

Gareth was still frowning. "I don't know, Harry. Let me think on it. I'm the one that'd get in trouble for it—not just from your parents, but from Dumbledore, too; I could get fired for something like this—but I'll consider it, alright?"

Realising it was the best he would get, Harry nodded and left. He didn't have high hopes, however, and he started wondering if it'd be possible for him to sneak away and visit the prison himself. He probably couldn't do it from home—he couldn't even sneak into the village to visit the park without his parents finding out—but there were ways to get out of Hogwarts undetected, secret passages and the like. Getting into the prison itself would be harder. He'd definitely have to take an Aging Potion or something, because they'd never let a child inside, but visitation was probably restricted to law enforcement and inmate friends and family, and he had no idea how to get past that.

But fortunately he didn't have to. On Saturday afternoon, when Gareth had him touch the portkey that took them out of the castle, it didn't drop them at the usual spot at the edge of Godric's Hollow. Instead, they were dropped at the entrance of a two-storey, red brick building with a twelve-foot wall surrounding it. They were just in front of a gate set into the wall, beside which leant Sirius Black. He straightened up when they appeared, approaching.

"Martin," he greeted curtly, then a little more warmly: "Harry. This way."

They followed him through the gate and down a path to the red-brick building, heavy wire fencing on either side that stretched up to create an arch over their heads. It took them to a double door that was opened from the inside by a guard in white robes who greeted Sirius politely and stared suspiciously at Gareth and Harry. Another guard sat behind a glass partition and they had to give their wands to her before they were allowed to follow Sirius through a barred door and further into the building.

It looked more like a hospital than a prison to Harry, with long white corridors, thick metal doors set into the walls, small windows set into each one. At a few, he saw faces peering out, some human in appearance, some decidedly not. Even the electric lights, which Harry was surprised by, gave it a sense of being in hospital. They passed though a few more barred doors before Sirius eventually stopped at one of the metal doors.

"You sure about this, kid?" he asked Harry.

"He can't hurt me, can he?"

"No, but he wouldn't anyway."

"He's a werewolf."

"He wouldn't hurt you as long as he's human," Sirius amended. "I was an idiot for ever thinking he would. Remus is a good man—a better man than me, that's for sure. If our positions had been reversed he'd have found out the truth before attacking me."

Harry wasn't sure he believed that, but he said he was certain about his decision and Sirius opened the door. The inside seemed much like a hospital room, too, with its white walls and electric ceiling light. In the middle of the room was a bed with side railings and a monitor beside it, and in it was Harry's godfather.

Harry had seen pictures of Remus Lupin as a teenager, standing alongside his father. He'd been a mild-looking boy, thin and wiry, with light-brown hair and amber eyes. All in all, he looked distinctly unthreatening and not someone who anyone would look at and immediately think _werewolf_. Despite this, in Harry's mind's eye he had developed an image of adult-Lupin as a big, hairy, and beastly—someone rather like Fenrir Greyback, in fact—so he was a little surprised by the sickly-thin man lying on the bed. His hair was almost entirely grey, although neatly trimmed, as was the shadow of a beard on his jaw, and he looked as if he'd be knocked over by a strong wind. He didn't look anything like a werewolf and Harry approached the bed without fear.

He didn't know what to make of the man. For years he disowned Lupin as a godfather, refusing to accept that a traitorous werewolf could be anything like that to him, but looking at the man in the bed he couldn't help but think of him as just an unfortunate victim. This was someone that his birth parents had trusted to look after him, had trusted even over Sirius Black the Auror, and when they were killed Lupin had been wrongly accused, assaulted by someone he'd thought a friend, and locked in a prison for over a decade, completely comatose. If he'd woken up before Peter Pettigrew was discovered, he probably would have been given the Dementor's Kiss without ever getting the chance to clear his name. How could Harry not feel sorry for him?

But even as he considered that, even as he looked at the man lying utterly motionless save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he still felt a surge of hate and fear just knowing what he was. Snape had stirred in Harry a distrust and dislike of werewolves, Fenrir Greyback had enhanced that to genuine fear, and his parents had stoked it to fully fledged hate. No matter how much he pitied the man or understood Lupin's circumstances, Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to like him. He'd never accept Lupin as a godfather, not unless someone found a miracle cure for werewolves.

* * *

Little Hangleton was an unremarkable English village inhabited primarily by Muggles. Only one wizarding family lived in the area—the Gaunts, all dead except for a man by the name of Morfin, who was a resident in Azkaban. The cottage of the Gaunt family was a rundown shack of a place that should have been of no interest to Lucius, except that it was covered with so many powerful protective charms that it practically shimmered in the dull autumn daylight.

With the knowledge of Voldemort's true name, he went looking into the Dark Lord's background. 'Riddle' was not any wizarding family that Lucius knew of, and 'Tom' was a painfully common Muggle name, so with a sick feeling of suspicion Lucius had checked Hogwarts year books, Ministry records, and private genealogy trees. Nowhere had he found evidence of Tom Riddle being a pureblood, so he had hired someone to look into Muggle records. (He might be willing to kill the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean he was willing to figure out how to deal with Muggles. That's what lackeys were for.) Riddle was fortunately a rare enough surname that he found only a couple of families in England, and it only took inspecting the various birth and death dates to figure out which of two Tom Riddles was Voldemort. Discovering that the elder Tom Riddle happened to live in the same village as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families—the Gaunts, who were also some of the few Parseltongue speakers in Britain—was enough to make Lucius almost certain that the Tom Riddle born at a London orphanage in 1926 was Lord Voldemort.

He looked further into the history of both families, and it didn't take him long to discover the murder of Tom Riddle Senior and his two Muggle parents in 1943. Another trip to Azkaban to speak with Morfin Gaunt, the man arrested for the murder, was enough to confirm Lucius' suspicions—Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort, was the half-blood child of Tom Riddle Senior and Merope Gaunt, now deceased.

So Lucius visited the village hoping to find some kind of clue as to another Horcrux Voldemort might have made. He didn't expect to find an actual Horcrux, but he was almost certain that's what the ring buried in the remains of the heavily enchanted Gaunt cottage was. He didn't dare touch it with his bare hands—but it was close. The enchantments on it were enough to make him grimace just determining them, but there was also a compulsion on it that he very nearly didn't notice until he was a hair's breadth from picking it up. He just barely stopped himself, wrapped the blasted thing in a handkerchief, and left to go investigate the long abandoned Riddle Manor on the other side of the village.

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the season was held a week after Hallowe'en. Harry walked onto the pitch with the rest of the Slytherin team with a stomach full of nerves, but once he was in the air it all fell away. It simply wasn't possible for him to be nervous when the wind was whipping though his hair and the ground was fifty feet below. He just focused on hunting down the Snitch and keeping an eye on Nick Coleman, the Gryffindor Seeker, in case he saw it first.

He did, and to Harry's despair Coleman was also much closer to the Snitch than he was. Even with his much superior broom, Harry had no chance of reaching it before Coleman did, but Lucian Bole also noticed this and sent a Bludger tearing across the field towards Coleman's head. The Seeker dodged it, but the delay was enough time for Harry to catch up with him, for all the good it did—the Snitch also darted away when the Bludger came flying past and vanished from both Seekers' sight.

It was another hour before they saw it again and the score was 120-90 to Gryffindor. Harry noticed the Snitch fluttering about just above the head of Gilderoy Lockhart and he flattened himself to his broom as he flew towards it. He heard Lee Jordan, the commentator, cry something about Harry going mad and attacking teachers, saw Lockhart and the people sitting around him throw themselves out the way, and then he snatched the little gold ball from the air, his broomstick tail just brushing the top of Professor Dumbledore's white hair, who hadn't so much as flinched away from Harry's incoming broom.

"He was trying to kill me!" Lockhart was still yelling half an hour later, but the only people who'd listen to him were his own portraits. Harry, meanwhile, was settled in the Slytherin common room enjoying the praise of his housemates and listening to several of them lament the fact that he hadn't crashed into Lockhart.

"Useless wanker could do with a good knock 'round the head," remarked Cid Villiers.

Ginny Weasley gasped. "You can't call him that. He's a teacher."

There were several scoffs and snorts of objection and Ginny flushed, but snapped, "Well he is, even if he is useless."

"Justification enough to call him a wanker," Flint told her. "If you're a prig like your brother, Weasley, your life in Slytherin is going to be very difficult."

"If you mean Percy—"

"Well I don't mean the twins, do I? And you'd best not take after them, either. We're not big fans of them down here."

Ginny stood up, glaring at Flint with her fists clenched by her sides, unperturbed by the fact that Flint was a full foot taller than her and almost twice as wide. Harry supposed she was used to standing up to bigger and older boys, coming from a family of six brothers; she'd certainly stood up to them when they tried to demand she be resorted. The whole school heard her yelling at them in the Entrance Hall.

"I don't take after any of my brothers, I'm my own person, but they're still my family and if you're rude about them then _your_ life in Slytherin is going to be very difficult."

This elicited laughs from several of the older students, but although Flint was smiling it wasn't mocking.

"You've got spunk, Weasley, I'll give you that."

The term went on. Harry and Lockhart continued to pretend the other didn't exist, pupil-run defence lessons were still held every evening in the Slytherin common room, and Harry made no attempt to hide his smug satisfaction when Tori finally admitted that Lockhart was a completely useless teacher. They both went home for the winter holiday and Harry celebrated Saturnalia with twice as much enthusiasm to make up for missing it the year before. Slytherin's second Quidditch match was the second weekend of the spring term, against Hufflepuff, and they won it 230-20, almost guaranteeing that they would win the Quidditch Cup even if they lost their last match against Ravenclaw in May.

On the fourteenth of February, Lockhart held schoolwide Valentine's Day celebrations, which included decorating the Great Hall in lurid pink flowers and heart-shaped confetti, whilst hiring a bunch of dwarfs to dress up as cupids to deliver valentines to people throughout the day. Harry thought the whole thing was utterly ridiculous, an opinion he was not alone in, but a large number of people thought it was delightful. Including Tori and Hermione Granger.

"Hermione sent That Idiot a card," Anita told Harry at morning break. "Can you believe it?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He wasn't sure he wanted to ask Tori if she had, too; she might not approve of Lockhart's teaching methods, but she still thought he was dreadfully handsome and daring.

To Harry's surprise and humiliation, one of the cupids hunted him down in the corridor in the afternoon and very loudly sung a poem that compared his eyes to toads. He tried to laugh it off, but he could feel his face burning with embarrassment and had to endure Theo's sniggering all through History of Magic. He sat at the Ravenclaw table with Tori at dinner just to get away from it, but that wasn't ideal, either.

"Heard you got a valentine," she said, grinning slyly at him while he scowled.

"Don't you start."

"Start what?" she said innocently. "You should be flattered. No one sent me any valentines."

"Why would you want one? They just stupid cards or teddies or roses or something."

"Because it means someone fancies you!" she said as if him not realising this was like not knowing that the earth revolved around the sun.

"So?"

"So… so it's nice. It means someone thinks you're special. Don't you want someone to fancy you?"

"Not if it means they send me stupid poems," he said earnestly.

"Don't you fancy anyone?"

"No. Why, do you?"

She looked down at her dinner. "Maybe," she mumbled.

"Who? Oh come on, you have to tell me now," he insisted when she shrugged. "I won't laugh, I promise."

She squirmed a little, looking embarrassed, but leant in and said in a low voice, "Ernie Macmillan."

"The Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, looking over to the next table. Slytherin didn't share any classes with the Hufflepuffs so he didn't know them very well, but he thought Ernie was a pompous-looking blond boy. "Did you send him a valentine?"

Tori nodded, looking very embarrassed now. "But I didn't put my name or anything. I don't want him knowing it's from me."

Harry looked at her, bemused. "But if you fancy him, don't you want to go out with him? You can't do that if he doesn't know you fancy him."

"I know that!" she snapped. "I just… it's… I mean, he might not fancy me, and if he doesn't then he'd probably laugh at me or something. It doesn't matter anyway, it's just a crush, and _you'd_ better not make fun of me _or_ tell him about it."

Harry affected a solemn expression. "I shan't say a word," he promised. "Besides, I never really speak to the Hufflepuffs anyway."

"Well. Good."

* * *

Kreacher, the Black family house elf, was Lucius' next port of call, and he did not enjoy it. For one, it meant interacting with a house elf; secondly, it was Sirius Black's house elf, and the last thing Lucius needed was Dumbledore's pet Auror sticking his nose into Lucius' business.

Fortunately he was able to go direct to the source. It wasn't unheard of to send one's house elf to deal with another family's house elf on matters of little importance. The destruction of Lord Voldemort was hardly that, but Lucius wasn't about to ask Sirius if he could speak to his house elf about the circumstances surrounding Regulus' disappearance.

It was a bit of a stretch, in truth. No one really knew what happened to Regulus Black, but he'd disappeared in 1979 and Lucius knew for a fact that the boy had been hesitant in his duties as a Death Eater. Bellatrix, who before had talked greatly about how wonderful her youngest cousin was and how he was such a proper pureblood with the right ideals, had stopped being quite so vocal about Regulus after he actually joined the Death Eaters. Then the winter after Orion Black died, whilst Regulus was home with his newly widowed mother, he vanished. The Death Eaters assumed foul play on the part of Dumbledore and his lot, or the Ministry, but Lucius later discovered that the Ministry assumed the Death Eaters had killed Regulus.

But a house elf knew all the family secrets and some weeks before Regulus' disappearance, Voldemort had asked a favour of Regulus. Given how Sirius turned out, Lucius didn't think it impossible that Regulus had balked at whatever Voldemort asked of him and turned traitor, perhaps while still in possession of another Horcrux, or the knowledge of where one was. Maybe he'd even pulled a Pettigrew and was hiding somewhere in plain sight.

He sent Dobby to Kreacher with a message that Lucius had a number of Black family heirlooms that had belonged to Narcissa and which Lucius wished to return to the proper family, only for Dobby to return with the message that Kreacher wasn't the Black family elf anymore. He'd been set free by Sirius several years earlier, after Walburga Black's death. This didn't surprise Lucius much; what did surprise him was that the elf was still alive. It was quite common for dismissed house elves to die from shock or despair, and it was a surprise that Kreacher, who'd been old in the 70s and served the Blacks his entire life, hadn't had a fatal heart attack on the spot.

But it worked in Lucius' favour. With Kreacher free, he was no longer obliged to keep the Black family's secrets. Of course, he was also not obligated to tell them, either—at least not until Lucius sent Dobby back with an offer of a position and then bound Kreacher into his own service. Then the whole story came out, albeit not easily as Kreacher, apparently still with some lingering loyalty, struggled not to speak.

But Lucius got every detail out of him—Voldemort's request for a house elf, taking Kreacher to a cave and force feeding him some potion before hiding a locket in a basin, Kreacher returning to Regulus on his master's orders, and then Regulus venturing to the same cave and succumbing to watery monsters (inferi, Lucius suspected from the elf's descriptions) after giving one final order that Kreacher destroy the locket taken from the basin.

"So it's destroyed," Lucius said when the elf finished talking, but Kreacher shook his head. "No? You disobeyed your master?"

"Kreacher tried!" the elf wailed, thoroughly distressed at the mere idea of disobeying Regulus. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work… so many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open… Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket!"

"Then where is it?" Lucius demanded. "What did you do with it?"

Wet-eyed and snotty-nosed, the elf still managed to look recalcitrant and he fought not to answer, lips trembling with the effort to hold them shut, but Lucius ordered him again and the elf blurted out, "Kreacher stole it. When Kreacher was dismissed by rotten blood traitor Sirius, Kreacher stole the locket so Kreacher could keep trying."

God bless overly loyal house elves, Lucius thought with a grim smile, and ordered the elf to bring him the locket immediately.

* * *

Shortly after the spring holiday, the Ravenclaws started a petition to have Lockhart fired and passed it around the school from house to house. With the exams looming, even the staunchest Lockhart fans were less than pleased with his teaching methods, and the fifth and seventh years absolutely hated him. The rest of the students only had to take Lockhart's self-written end of year test, after all; they, on the other hand, had official exams that were not going to have questions like _How much hair gel does Gilderoy Lockhart use in a month?_

Harry barely looked away from his own books to scribble his name on the petition when it reached him. He felt a lot more pressured by three NEWT exams than he had by three OWLs, and he spent every spare minute with his nose in a book, snapping at anyone who distracted him. His work in other classes was slipping, he knew, but he didn't care. He wasn't so far behind in anything that he'd fail his end of year tests and he only needed to pass those, not excel in them, to not get held back a year. He wanted to get at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' in his NEWTs, but preferably 'Outstanding', and he definitely didn't want to fail and have to try again next year. If he passed the NEWTs now, he wouldn't take Transfiguration, Defence, or Charms at all next year, which meant he could take all five of the optional third year classes instead of just two or three like everyone else took.

Quidditch was about the only time Harry relaxed that term. With the Quidditch Cup practically in their grasp already, they slacked a bit in their training and they only beat Hufflepuff 180-90, after Harry caught the Snitch, but celebrated the win of match and cup long into the night.

The NEWTs were carried out exactly as they had been the year before, right down to the day on which each exam was held. The only difference was that Harry, instead of being called in last, was called in after the seventh years but before the fifth years, presumably so that the examiners didn't go from testing NEWT students to OWLs and then back again.

He was incredibly grateful when they were all over. He was a little less confident about his answers on the theory exams than he had been the year before, but he had no doubts about his practical work and was sure that any failings in the written would be made up by his perfect spell work.

As expected, he didn't do great in his other end of year exams, but he passed everything and not too terribly, so that was alright. He paid a little more attention to what was happening around him, too, and learnt that the petition against Lockhart was successful—or at least, presumed successful. Lockhart _was_ leaving at the end of the year, but he proclaimed that it was to write another book and get back to adventuring. It was generally agreed upon that this was an utter lie and his attempt to save face, but as long as he left no one really cared. They were all just crossing their fingers for a competent new teacher in September.

"You could teach us now," Theo said to Harry at the end of year feast. "You're practically a fully-qualified wizard already."

"Only in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence," Harry pointed out, somewhat amused by the suggestion. "I don't think I'd be a very good teacher anyway. I don't like helping other people that much and I'd hate marking homework."

"You'd be better than what we've had so far, especially if you didn't give us homework."

"That's not a hard bar to pass, Theo," he said dryly.

Despite the Slytherin win of the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor took the House Cup that year. The noise of their cheers almost raised the roof; Slytherin had held it for the past eight years, so even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were glad to see it go to someone else for a change.

The summer passed unremarkably. They went to Italy this year, which was Harry's favourite of their three summer homes. His NEWT results came and he was pleased to get an 'O' in his Charms and Defence and an 'E' in Transfiguration, and surprised to get an accompanying letter saying that because he'd passed all his spell-work NEWTs, the Ministry was making a special exception to let him use magic outside of school. As he'd been doing this for years anyway, it wasn't as exciting as it might have been.

Their book lists arrived earlier than the summer before and Harry wrote to Anita and Theo about meeting up in Diagon Alley again, as Tori wrote to her friends. Theo refused without giving a reason and making Harry wonder if he thought more of their friendship than Theo did, but Anita agreed and so a few days after the Valentines returned from Italy, Harry and Tori headed to Diagon Alley with Jennifer, briefly met their friends' parents, and then went off by themselves.

The very first thing to catch their attention was Quality Quidditch Supplies, which had a display model of the brand new Firebolt. Lisa and Padma had little interest in Quidditch and had no appreciation at all for the broomstick, but while Tori and Anita certainly admired it they didn't have the same level of fascination as Harry did. He was practically drooling as he battled the crowd to stare at the slick design and was incredibly tempted to ask his parents for one. It didn't have a price tag, but Gabriel and Lorna had never flinched at the price of anything before so he was sure they could afford it. But there was nothing wrong with his Nimbus 2001 and while it might not have been up to the Firebolt's standards, it was hardly a bad broom and just over a year old, so they probably wouldn't agree to get him a Firebolt yet. Maybe at Saturnalia or his next birthday he thought hopefully as the girls finally dragged him away.

Initially, Harry and Anita stuck with Tori, Lisa, and Padma, but they separated after a while when Anita asked Harry quietly, "Have you ever been down Knockturn Alley?"

Harry nodded, standing in line at the apothecary. "Loads of times."

"I haven't. What's it like?"

"Um… kind of unpleasant? I mean, the shops sell dark magic items, and some of the street vendors are dodgy, also it's pretty dark and dinghy, but it's not like you'll shrivel up and die just stepping down there."

"Can we go visit?" she asked as they reached the counter and dumped their purchases down for the cashier to ring up. "I want to see it, but Mum never let me before."

Harry hesitated. Gabriel and Lorna always warned him and Tori against going down there on their own, but he was thirteen now and the youngest person to ever earn a NEWT, so he didn't see why he shouldn't be able to go down a shopping alley alone.

"Sure, but we'll leave them behind," he said with a nod of his head at his sister and her friends. Tori probably wouldn't mind coming, but he didn't think Lisa and Padma would come down Knockturn Alley with them.

So when the three Ravenclaws said they were going to Fortescue's for ice cream, Harry and Anita said they didn't want any and slipped off on their own, glancing around before darting down the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"You were right about dark and dinghy," Anita muttered as they wandered down it, sticking close to him. "But lets look in some of the shops."

Harry obliged, keeping one hand on the wand at his hip. In Borgin and Burkes, a general pawnshop, they peered around at a Hand of Glory, cursed jewellery, and a broken vanishing cabinet until the owner's suspicious glare scared them off. There was another apothecary here, but instead of selling hayfever relief, general painkillers, and cures for simple maladies like colds and indigestion, they had sleeping potions that caused nightmares, draughts that _gave_ the drinker indigestion or headaches, and straight up poisons. Even the ingredients were dangerous, with poisonous plants locked in boxes and live creatures crawling around in glass cages to be milked of venom as necessary.

Only when they went into a bookshop did it occur to Harry that a visit to Knockturn Alley without his parents was just the thing he needed. He stood before an entire shelf of books dedicated to demonology and felt a sick twist in his gut as he realised that for two years he'd completely forgotten—or, more truthfully, ignored—what he'd learnt his first term at Hogwarts. Now, two weeks after his thirteenth birthday and staring at books with titles like _Dealing with Demons: A Summoner's Guide_ , he was suddenly, painfully aware that there were only five and a half years left before his ten years were up.

He had a flick through them, checked the price tags and then how much money he had on him, tried to guess how much his school books would cost, then went up to the counter and asked, "Do you do owl orders?"

They did, so he took note of the books that looked most helpful and their prices. He got plenty of pocket money from his parents, but he hadn't brought a great deal of it with him today, mostly only thinking about his school things; the rest sat in his money bank back home.

"What's that place?" Anita asked when they were back out on the street, pointing to an unmarked building next to a pub, its ground floor windows blocked by thick curtains and only a red lamp hanging by the front door.

"Oh that's a brothel," Harry answered simply, and then flushed bright red. He hadn't thought much of it when Gabriel and Lorna first explained what a brothel was, when he was nine years old and asked about the building on a trip to London, but now he was old enough to really understand what went on in such a place. Sex had never been a taboo thing in the Valentine household; his parents had never lied or used euphemisms about how babies were made and, in a place with a bunch of creatures physically incapable of procreating, Harry had always known that sex was not just for making babies. But it was also utterly uninteresting to Harry so he'd never given it much thought.

But after two years at Hogwarts, overhearing older students make lewd comments and generally developing the kind of knowledge that was unavoidable when five hundred teenagers all lived in the same building, Harry couldn't help feeling embarrassed about so casually mentioning brothels to his friend—and not just any friend, at that, but a _girl_.

Fortunately, although Anita looked flustered, all she said was, "Oh," and then suggested that they return to Diagon Alley. The rest of the trip passed normally, although Harry found himself unable to make eye contact with Anita quite as often as normal.

A couple of weeks later, he was heading back to Hogwarts. He spent most of the train journey in a compartment with Theo, Blaise, Tracey, and Millicent. They discussed their holidays, the new classes they'd be taking, and Hogsmeade village, which they were now allowed to visit on certain weekends. At least, most of them did. Theo, as always, said nothing of his time at home and whilst the rest of them spoke he sat back in his seat with his eyes half closed, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to sleep for a week. He had a massive bruise on his face that he said was from a Bludger, flinched away when anyone tried to touch him, and only when the trolley witch came by did he perk up, buying three pumpkin pasties and two bottles of water, scarfing down the pasties so fast the rest of them stared at him.

"Hungry are you?" Tracey remarked.

"Miffed breakfas'," Theo mumbled around a mouthful of half-chewed pasty. He slowed down a bit on his second and was almost leisurely with his third, and washed them all down with both bottles of water. The food and drink made him look a bit more lively although his eyes still had a haunted look to them, but an hour later he was fast asleep with his head on Harry's shoulder. Tracey, for some reason, looked annoyed by this, but when Harry tried to shift the other boy—his mouth was open and he was drooling on Harry's shirt—she hissed and flapped her hands.

"Don't, you'll wake him up!" she said in a half-whisper.

"I'm getting a wet shoulder."

"It won't kill you. Look at him, he obviously needs the sleep. Let him be."

Sighing, Harry did. He couldn't really argue with Tracey. Theo was very pale, with deep shadows beneath his eyes, his brown hair in need of a cut, and he looked as if he'd lost weight, although that could just have been his extra couple of inches height making him look skinnier.

Theo woke up about ten minutes before they reached Hogsmeade, which Harry was grateful for because he desperately needed to use the bathroom by then. He got back to the compartment to find Tracey and Millicent had thrown the boys out so they could change into their school robes, and Harry joined them. He and Theo were already in their robes; Theo had been in his since they got on the train and Harry had fetched his from his trunk—left in a different compartment with Tori's—on the way to the toilet and changed there.

At Hogsmeade, it was pelting down with icy rain and they half-ran for the Thestral-drawn carriages that would take them up to the castle, eager to get out of the wet but wary of slipping in the mud. Once up at the castle, they dried themselves off with a simple spell and made their way to the Great Hall. As they sat waiting for the sorting to begin, Harry's attention was drawn to the staff table by Pansy Parkinson's loud whisper of, "Is that Lucius Malfoy?"

It was, sitting stiffly in a chair beside Gareth. Harry's first thought was that he looked old. He wasn't sure how old the man was, but he looked older than Harry expected from a man whose son had been the same age as Harry. Perhaps that was the result of losing his wife and son in the space of a week.

"Is he our new Defence teacher?" Pansy wondered.

"Must be," Daphne Greengrass answered. "But wait, hang on, who's that at the end?"

Harry looked to where she meant. Another new teacher sat at the end of the staff table nearest the Gryffindors, an elderly witch with closely cropped grey hair and a prominent chin.

"One of them must be the new Magical Creatures teacher," remarked Logan Sparrow, a fourth year sitting near the group of third years. "There were rumours Professor Kettleburn was going to retire last year and he's not up there."

"That must be her," Pansy said. "Lucius Malfoy would never teach something like Care of Magical Creatures."

She was right, though they had to wait until after the sorting and feast to find out, when Dumbledore stood to introduce Lucius as the new Defence teacher and the woman, Professor Grubbly-Plank, as the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

They started some of their new classes the next day, Harry especially. While his housemates went off to Charms straight after breakfast, Harry made his way up to the North Tower to join the Gryffindors in Divination. Inspecting his timetable, he was a little surprised to find a few free periods in it, but he figured out why. Although he was taking Divination with the Gryffindors and Ancient Runes with the Hufflepuffs, he took the regular Slytherin Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies classes. They shared Arithmancy with the Ravenclaws, Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors, and in Muggle Studies all four houses were put together. As such, even taking five optional subject didn't fill up his timetable, though there was a note on it saying he was expected to spend those free periods studying in the library.

He was one of the first people to reach the North Tower and ended up having to explain his presence several times as the Gryffindors gradually turned up, all of whom appeared to be taking the class. He wasn't surprised that Seamus and Ron eyed him distastefully and shoved him back when the ladder up to the classroom came down, forcing him to come up last.

For the first time in any daytime lesson at Hogwarts, Harry had to remove the Shades Spell he wore almost constantly throughout the day. The tower room was so dimly lit that it was no bother on his sensitive eyes—although the excess of incense was thick enough to bother his eyes as much as his nose. Harry settled in an armchair around a table with Anita and Hermione, peering around the dim room in search of the teacher. When she stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight, Harry thought that she looked remarkably like an insect.

"Welcome to Divination," she greeted, settling herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Harry wondered that all this incense didn't cloud the inner eye, but Trelawney went on, mentioning that Divination was primarily a natural talent and not something that could be learnt out of books. Across from Harry, Hermione looked thoroughly startled at this proclamation.

After an ominously vague comment about Neville Longbottom's grandmother, a warning to Parvati Patil about red-headed men, and a prediction that one of them would leave around Easter, she set them all to reading their tea leaves. Harry drank his quickly, upturned it on the saucer, then passed his cup to Hermione while taking Anita's; his presence made an odd number of students, so they were working as a trio rather than in pairs like everyone else.

"Okay," Harry said, peering into Anita's cup and then checking _Unfogging the Future_. "This looks like a pot-plant tree… oh, that one, a cypress tree. That means you'll face a difficulty but overcome it."

"Cool."

"And that looks like a crown—'attainment and honour'—and… an elf, I think. That's… oh. It says you should be on your guard and you might be victim of a practical joke."

"I'll make sure to avoid Fred and George Weasley then," Anita said and looked into Hermione's cup. "Okay, this looks like a bookcase to me… 'success through perseverance and study'—well that's not a surprise, you live with your nose in a book. That looks like a bracelet; does it have bracelets?"

" 'A discovery made too late'," Hermione read, book open on her lap, frowning. "How do they get that from a bracelet?"

"No idea. What about a hand?"

"Hands should be read in conjunction with other symbols, so that must mean I'm going to make a discovery too late that's connected to my success in studying." She scoffed audibly. "Well as long as I succeed from studying then I don't see how any discovery I make there will be too late. This all seems like guesswork to me."

"Well guess mine," Harry said. "What do you see?"

She picked the cup up, still frowning, turning it this way and that. "Soggy tea leaves, mostly, but I guess that _could_ be a box."

"Open or closed?" Anita asked, consulting her book.

"Open, or maybe it's a house…"

"Well if it's a box, that means a troubled love affair—" Harry felt his cheeks flush "—but if it's a house that means… hang on… 'successful transaction, a visit, or a new home'."

Hermione wasn't really paying attention, still frowning down at the cup. "Ridiculous. That could be an egg, but it's just _tea leaves_ , it can't really tell you anything…"

She went on muttering while Anita, who seemed to be enjoying herself, flicked through the book.

"Egg, egg, where's egg… aha: 'New plans or ideas, or a birth'. Maybe your parents will have a baby."

"Vampires can't have babies," Harry told her.

"Maybe _you'll_ have a baby."

Harry blanched and Hermione snorted aloud, finally looking away from the cup. "Don't be ridiculous, he can't have a baby. He's thirteen, that's not even legal, and he would need a girlfriend anyway."

"Exactly!" Harry cried, gesturing emphatically. "I don't even want a girlfriend!"

Their commotion drew Trelawney's attention and she swept over with a scowl, unimpressed by their antics. "Let me see that," she insisted, taking the cup from Hermione. Everyone else went quiet to watch.

"Hmm… bats, sorrow in the household…"

Harry frowned. There was nothing wrong at home, so far as he knew.

"The cross, trouble and delay… not a happy cup, not at all… the sword, oh dear…"

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. There was a tinkle of breaking china as Neville broke his cup—the second that morning—and Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy—my poor dear boy—no—it is kinder not to say—no—don't ask me…"

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry, Hermione, and Anita's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the shark."

Harry's frown deepened. "So… I need to avoid swimming in the ocean?"

Trelawney sat up in her chair, staring at Harry through her large glasses. "There are sharks on land, too, my dear boy, and it is an omen as dark as the Grim. You cup could not be clearer—all the signs together—you are destined… for _death_!"

"Oh," Harry said, and tried to sound shocked and afraid, because this was clearly what she expected and the Gryffindors, all except Hermione and Anita, had gasped in horror. Given that Harry had known since he was eleven that he was destined to die, he didn't have quite the same outraged reaction. Anita shot him a wary look and snatched her own cup from in front of him to see if her own upcoming death was foretold in the tea leaves. Hermione, meanwhile, got up from her chair and peered into Harry's cup again.

"I don't think it looks like a shark."

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike.

"You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

"It does sort of," Seamus Finnigan remarked, tilting his head to one side and squinting, then shrugging and looking at Harry with his usual dislike. "Rotten luck, Potter."

He didn't sound the least bit concerned.

"It's not that big of a deal," Harry said. "Everyone dies eventually. It's a fact of life."

This made them all pause to consider it, but then Trelawney, looking at Harry pityingly, shook her head and reached over to pat his hand sympathetically. "That is true, but when the signs show up in the cup of one so young… I think we will leave the lesson here for today. Yes… please pack away your things…"

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books and closed their bags. Most of them avoided looking at Harry as they filed out and he walked ahead, having a History class to get to and not wanting to listen to the Gryffindors talking about his predicted death. As blasé as he'd tried to be about it all, he couldn't help being a little concerned. He didn't like the idea of other people knowing he was going to die before adulthood. He wanted to believe the signs Trelawney saw were mere coincidence, but he couldn't quite convince himself of it. Instead, he silently promised himself he'd try to prevent his death. He hadn't contacted the Knockturn Alley book store yet, not wanting them to deliver books to his home that would draw questions from his parents, but he decided he'd write to them that very night for the books on demonology.

After History was lunch, and then he and the Slytherins went out onto the grounds for double Care of Magical Creatures, which they shared with the Gryffindors. In a clearing by the forest, Professor Grubbly-Plank introduced them to clabberts, tree-dwelling creatures that were like a cross between a monkey and a frog, with big glowing pustules on their foreheads which glowed in warning whenever danger approached. They were not the most exciting creatures to study, but Harry guessed they probably wouldn't move onto the really interesting stuff until later classes.

At dinner, Harry and the other third years asked the Slytherin second years about Lucius; they had been one of the first classes to have a lesson with him and everyone was eager to find out if they were stuck with yet another incompetent teacher.

"He's definitely not incompetent," Tyler Swift said, waving a potato around on a fork, "but it's like… I don't know…"

"It's like he wants to teach Dark Arts instead of Defence Against," Cid Villiers explained.

"No surprise there," Ginny Weasley muttered darkly. "I don't like him at all."

"Your family and his have always had a bit of a rivalry, though, haven't they?" Tyler asked, to which Ginny nodded.

"My dad reckons Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater back when You Know Who was in power, but he got out of it by giving the Ministry loads of money and pretending he was forced to do it. It's outrageous that Dumbledore hired someone like that."

Given that Dumbledore had hired Quirrell, who'd been possessed by Voldemort himself, Harry thought hiring a Death Eater was a step up.

"Did he give you any trouble?" he asked Ginny. "For being a Weasley?"

She looked startled that he spoke to her, but shook her head even as her face went red. Cid snorted.

"Too fucking surprised, it looked," he said. "Didn't seem to know what the fuck to do with a Weasley in Slytherin."

"About the only thing him and my parents have in common," Ginny admitted. "They don't know what to do with me either."

"Do they disapprove?" Harry asked, remembering how vehemently her brothers had objected to where she ended up.

"Yeah, but they've at least given up on trying to get me resorted. They still seem to think you're all going to attack me in the middle of the night or something, but I think they'll get over it eventually."

Logan Sparrow scoffed. Harry was starting to think he liked eavesdropping on other people's conversations; he never seemed to spend much time hanging out with his own year mates.

"We'd never attack you in the middle of the night, Weasley," he said. "What kind of idiots do your parents thing we are? We'd attack you in mid-day—then we can make it look like someone else did it."

"Thanks for the honesty, Sparrow," Ginny said dryly.

* * *

Getting hired to teach at Hogwarts solely so he could search the castle at leisure was, Lucius had to admit, a little excessive, but it was the only way he could get unimpeded access to the castle since his dismissal from the board of governors. He couldn't even be sure there _was_ a Horcrux at Hogwarts, but he strongly suspected it. Voldemort had always had something of an obsessed fascination with the castle and he would probably think it great to hide an object of such powerful dark magic right under Dumbledore's nose.

And there were only two places to really hide things in Hogwarts: the forest and the Room of Requirement. Lucius' money was on the latter. The forest was risky—so many creature that could come along and accidentally move or trample hidden objects—but the Room of Requirement wasn't commonly known about. Lucius' father had told him about it, as he'd told Draco, and Lucius had used it primarily to conjure an extravagant private bathroom for the four years before he became a prefect. He hated communal bathrooms.

Finding the thing was shockingly easy. He asked the Room to become somewhere he could hide a Horcrux, it conjured up a cathedral-sized room stuffed with what must have a been a thousand years of hidden objects, and then it was just a matter of dark magic detection charms, which he was perfectly competent at. Just because he preferred to use the dark arts didn't mean he didn't know how to defend against them. His father had been unforgiving of poor performance in any subjects at school (and Lucius had the scars to prove it) and when one worked for a maniac who liked to assault his Death Eaters at least half as often as he attacked Muggles, it inspired a man to learn how to defend himself.

He wasn't surprised to find a number of dark magic objects tucked among the junk—it was the kind of thing a student needed to hide urgently, after all—but the darkest and most powerful he found was a tarnished diadem. A few extra charms just to make sure, and he wrapped it in a cloth and took it out with him. His task was already done before the term even began. He was half tempted to tell Dumbledore he could stuff the Defence job, but magical contracts weren't to be taken lightly, even ones as simple as employment contracts, and it might draw a little too much attention as to why he was quitting. The interview _for_ the job had been awkward enough as it was.

But now he was stumped. He knew of five Horcruxes—the diary, Bellatrix's cup, Regulus' locket, the Gaunt ring, the Hogwarts diadem—but he hadn't the faintest idea where to look for the sixth (and final, he hoped). He was certain there had to be a sixth; Voldemort's obsession with things of magical importance was too big. He wouldn't have been able to resist splitting his soul into seven pieces—six Horcruxes and the part that remained in his body.

But Lucius found nothing in the Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton—no surprise; it was a purely Muggle residence and Voldemort wouldn't want it hidden in something like that, not given how obvious it now was to Lucius that the Dark Lord utterly loathed half his own heritage—and he knew of nowhere else to look. Voldemort was not the kind of man who'd shared his favourite locations. The best he could hope for was that one of the other Death Eaters had been given it to secure, like he and Bellatrix. There were a handful of people Lucius suspected of being trusted with such things, some in Azkaban and some not, but none of them would be easy to search and all would be suspicious of questions about their past activities, even from him.

With only one Horcrux left, Lucius had to start thinking about how he would kill the actual Voldemort. Not Tom Riddle, who still sat in Azkaban and who Lucius had every intention of personally murdering, but the vanished form of whatever had been left behind on Hallowe'en night in 1981. He was the true Voldemort and as such it was him that was subject to the prophecy. If it was true, and Lucius was inclined to believe it was, then Harry Potter-Valentine was the only person that could kill the true Voldemort, but that didn't mean he was willing to commit murder. He _should_ be—Voldemort had killed his parents, the boy was being raised by vampires, and he'd ended up in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, all of which suggested much more openness to ideas like this than his birth parents probably were—but Lucius couldn't be certain, so he needed to get close and figure out just what kind of person Harry Potter-Valentine was.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Unlike with their last three Defence teachers, opinions on Lucius varied throughout the school. The Slytherins mostly loved him, in part because he favoured them massively and gave out house points like the Easter bunny gave out chocolate. By contrast, the Gryffindors almost hated him for mostly the same reason and because Lucius was stingier than a desert with water about giving them points. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were more mixed, but in all cases there was a definite divide in opinion along the pure-blood/Muggleborn line. Lucius' views on blood purity were no secret. Harry almost wished he was still taking Defence just to see what Lucius was like with him.

Tori very reluctantly admitted to Harry that she considered Lucius a good teacher, but pointedly added that she didn't like him as a person and never would for the sheer fact of being a Malfoy. Harry said nothing to that. He'd not thought much of it when he first learnt that Lorna hated the entire Malfoy clan for what Cato Malfoy had down to her human family, but with Lucius in the castle Harry couldn't help questioning it. He wasn't denying that what Cato had done was ghastly, but it had been Cato who did it, not Lucius. It was possible (probable, Harry would admit) that Lucius knew about his family history and approved, but they couldn't know that for certain and hating him for what his ancestors had done struck Harry as a little unfair.

But perhaps it was just that Harry couldn't help feeling sorry for the man, and a thin, tenuous sort of connection based on the fact that the same person who murdered Lucius' son had attempted to kill Harry. It had been nearly two years, but whenever Harry thought about that first term at Hogwarts, about Draco and how he'd been with Harry, he still wondered if it was possible he could have done something to save Draco from Riddle and stop the teenage Voldemort from ever materialising, if only he'd been a little more willing to pay attention to Draco.

While the third year Slytherins had Defence classes, Harry had Muggle Studies with the other three houses. He was the only Slytherin taking it, with Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff; Kevin Entwhisle, Michael Corner, Su Li, and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw; and Hermione Granger as the only Gryffindor.

"You're Muggleborn," Harry pointed out as they all took their seats. "What are you taking Muggle Studies for?"

"I want to see what it's like studying them from a wizards point of view. I'm taking all the electives; I didn't want to miss out on anything."

"But how are you doing that? I only can because I don't have Charms, Defence, or Transfiguration anymore."

"Oh, I've sorted it all out with Professor McGonagall," Hermione said dismissively. "It's not a problem."

Muggle Studies was an easy subject for him, as well. Between the Dursleys and the very much mixed Muggle/magic upbringing at home, Harry was no stranger to the Muggle world, but he needed something to fill out his timetable.

Quidditch practice started at the end of the first week. Marcus Flint, satisfied with everyone from last year, didn't bother holding any try outs so Harry didn't have to worry about being booted off the team. A few people complained about this, but none as much as Terrence Higgs who'd been hoping to get back his position as Seeker.

Weeks passed. Harry's demonology books arrived and he studied them whilst tucked away in bed, the curtains shut so no one would have a nose at what he was reading, but they were no more helpful about breaking a demon deal than the ones in the Hogwarts' library. A few suggested that killing the demon who held his contract would cancel it out, but others said that it wouldn't, that the contract would merely transfer to another demon.

In mid-October, Gareth held the Slytherins back at the end of a Potions class to remind them all to hand in their Hogsmeade permission slips before Hallowe'en, when the first visit would be. Two weeks later and Harry joined the rest of the third years in lining up at the front door after breakfast to get signed out of the castle by Mr Wallace. Shuffling along, Harry noticed that Theo wasn't with the other Slytherins, and he couldn't see the boy when he looked around.

"He didn't get permission to go," Daphne Greengrass said when Harry pointed out Theo's absence. "I think it's a punishment."

"For what?"

"He used magic in the holiday. My father works in the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry and I heard him telling my mother all about it. Theo was sent an official warning for using a Disarming Charm and Cutting Curse just a couple of weeks after term ended. His father must still be mad about it if he refused to sign the permission slip."

"Poor Theo," Harry said, wondering if that was also why Theo hadn't been able to meet him in Diagon Alley. His father sounded horribly strict.

"Poor Tracey," Pansy muttered, eliciting a snort of laughter from Daphne.

"Why poor Tracey?" Harry asked, startled, but they'd reached the front of the line then and, once Mr Wallace checked their names against his list, headed out towards the village, the two girls sauntering on ahead of Harry to catch up with the aforementioned Tracey. Shrugging, Harry lingered about until the Gryffindors came out then joined Hermione and Anita in walking down to the village. He'd never really made friends with Blaise, Crabbe, or Goyle, so in Theo's absence he preferred to visit the village in the company of Anita or Tori, but the Ravenclaws had left before the Slytherins so he couldn't catch up with his sister.

It was a fun and fresh experience. Unlike London, Hogsmeade was not a place that catered well to vampires and the Valentines had never visited it, nor had Harry or Tori gone with Jennifer, so it was all new to him. At the Shrieking Shack he didn't inform Hermione that there weren't actually any ghosts there when she rattled off a book's worth of facts at him and Anita; at Honeydukes he bought more sweets and chocolate than he probably should have; and in the Three Broomsticks he gorged himself on warm butterbeer, so comfy and snug in the pub that he didn't notice the time and was almost late in heading back up to the castle. Not late by their official curfew—which was the Hallowe'en feast—but late for meeting Gareth so they could go to Godric's Hollow.

The weather over the next week steadily worsened. With the first Quidditch match of the season approaching, the Slytherin team were not happy. They didn't want to have to fly in a torrential downpour and gusting winds. Harry was particularly unkeen. The rest of the team were all big, bulky guys, and while he'd had a growth spurt in the past year, he was still relatively small and would probably get blown away in the horrendous storm that blew in the day before the match. It was so bad that lanterns were lit in the corridors and Harry went without the Shades Spell all day.

It was still just as bad the next morning and the Slytherin team's only comfort was that the Gryffindors looked just as unkeen about flying in the storm as they were. Harry drank his juice, nibbled at his toast, and silently went over a list of spells that would help keep him warm, dry, and not blown away whilst also not being anything that counted as cheating and thus disqualify him from the game. Already his hands and feet were tingling in anticipation of the cold they'd be subjected to.

Except that wasn't anticipation he realised as it steadily got worse. It was just a very unusual prickling sensation that was creeping its way up his limbs. He frowned and shook them out, trying to get rid of the sensation, but it didn't help. He stood up, thinking he could walk it out, but as soon as he tried his legs collapsed under him and he fell over the bench, sprawling ungainly in the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Flint growled, grabbing him by the front of his jumper and hauling him to his feet, only for Harry to collapse again as soon as he let go.

"I can't feel my hands," Harry said, panic creeping into his voice. He couldn't feel his feet, either, and the numbness was following the prickling, which had now reached his hips and shoulders. "I can't feel them, I can't move!"

The rest of the students were looking around now, wondering what was going on. Tori scrambled out of her seat and hurried over to him, crouching by him. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"I can't move!" he wailed, terrified by the lack of response from his arms and legs. Everyone was coming to gawk at him now, whispering worriedly, and the teachers were making their way down from the staff table.

"WOOD!" Flint roared, and Harry saw him vault over the Ravenclaw table, eliciting shrieks from the people sat there. "You cheating piece of shit, you poisoned our Seeker!"

"The hell I did!" Harry heard Oliver Wood yell back. "That's the kind of thing you lot do, not us!"

"I didn't poison my own Seeker!"

They kept shouting at each other, but Harry was more concerned with himself. The tingling had moved into his head and by the time Gareth and Dumbledore pushed their way through the students to crouch beside him, he couldn't even make his mouth work properly to answer their questions, only able to mumble incoherently. He was aware of terrified tears spilling out of his eyes, but he couldn't feel them dripping down his temples. They moved him onto a stretcher and hurried him out of the hall and up to the Hospital Wing; by the time they got there, he couldn't even move his eyeballs. His chest was tight, lungs refusing to expand, and he wasn't sure they'd noticed he couldn't breathe properly. He wanted to thrash and scream, to arch on the stretcher and fill his lungs with air, but all the panic was trapped inside his head, his screams silent but to himself, until eventually the paralysis overwhelmed even his mind and everything went black.

* * *

He woke up in the Hospital Wing and it was a few moments before he figured out why he was so delighted by the mere fact of being awake and able to breathe. Then he realised he still couldn't feel most of his body and nothing but his eyelids seemed willing to respond to him, and his delight vanished.

Madam Pomfrey appeared above him. "Mr Potter-Valentine, if you can hear me, please blink twice."

Harry did so.

"You've been poisoned, Mr Potter-Valentine. For now, I'm able to hold off the effects of the poison just enough to keep you breathing, but until Professor Martin brews the antidote you will remain mostly paralysed. Do you understand?"

He blinked twice.

"Good. It should be just another hour before Professor Martin is done. Your sister is here and I will check on you every ten minutes. Hang in there."

It was the longest hour of his life. Tori moved so she was just in the edge of his vision and she talked constantly, for which he was grateful even if he didn't really care about Lisa Turpin deciding to go on a diet, the rivalry between Susan Bones and Mandy Brocklehurst who both fancied Ernie Macmillan (who Tori _didn't_ fancy anymore), or any of the other school gossip that Tori seemed to know an awful lot about. He didn't want to have only the ceiling to stare at for an hour and only the thunder of rain on the windows to accompany him. He felt like nothing more than a pair of eyes floating just above a bed and if he hadn't had the distraction of Tori's speech then he'd probably have gone mad in that single hour, even with Pomfrey bustling over every ten minutes, checking he was still responsive and twice casting spells on him when she found him struggling to breathe again.

Eventually, to his great relief, he heard the Hospital Wing doors bang open and footsteps stalking quickly down the ward.

"Done," Gareth's voice came. "Poppy, is he ready?"

"And responsive, yes. Let's get it in him."

They shooed Tori out the way, propped him up in the bed, and carefully fed the potion to him, Gareth pouring it slowly into his mouth while Pomfrey stroked her wand over his throat and muttered a spell to make him swallow. It was slowly done, Gareth cautious about how much he gave Harry so as not to cause him to choke. His facial muscles came back to him first, a tingling in his lips and mouth followed by the sensation of the vial on his lips and the potion in his mouth, then his jaw and throat muscles started working. Once they were, they were able to work much quicker, Harry gulping the potion down of his own accord. The tingling spread through the rest of him, working in the opposite direction than the paralysis had come up, so that his feet and hands were the last things to come back to him.

He wiggled and squirmed delightedly when it was done, gladly obeying all Pomfrey's requests to move and bend as she examined him to make sure everything was working properly and all his nerves weren't damaged.

It was dinner by then. Pomfrey kicked Tori out now that she'd seen Harry awake and moving. While a house elf brought Harry's dinner on a tray, he asked Gareth, "Did you find who poisoned me?"

"Not yet," he admitted with a scowl. "Everyone sitting around you says they saw nothing and if anyone knows who did it, they aren't talking."

"What about the match? What happened?"

"Higgs played in your place. We lost."

Harry swore, then hurriedly apologised, but Gareth waved it off. Pomfrey came and kicked him out as well and Harry was left to eat his dinner alone. He wanted to go back to Slytherin after, but Pomfrey insisted on keeping him in overnight and as darkness fell properly he found himself grateful for it. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to Slytherin when he had no idea who'd poisoned him. For all he knew, they were waiting to get him again now that their first attempt failed.

Pomfrey still wouldn't let him out come morning, sternly telling him that poisons could linger in the system for days afterwards, even with antidotes, so he resigned himself to a boring Sunday. Anita, Hermione, Tori, and several of his housemates stopped by, but so did Ginny Weasley, who gave him a handmade 'get well' card that sang shrilly unless he trapped it under a fruit bowl; Flint, who told him to get better "really fucking soon, because I'm not putting Higgs in another match"; and, to Harry's great surprise, Oliver Wood, who wanted to insist that neither he nor anyone else on the Gryffindor team had been the one to poison Harry.

Pomfrey finally let him out on Monday morning. He ate breakfast in the Hospital Wing, had one last check up, then hurried down to Slytherin to fetch his books and change into his uniform. He got through Herbology and Muggle Studies fine, but when he sat down for lunch he froze. His stomach, which had been grumbling for half an hour, shut up and decided it would rather shrivel up into a walnut than digest anything on the table in front of him. He couldn't even bring himself to drink anything. He excused himself and hurried down to Slytherin, digging out the bag of sweets he got from Honeydukes on Hallowe'en. It wasn't exactly a proper lunch, but it was food and he wasn't afraid that it was poisoned, either.

Theo turned up not long after, carrying a sandwich, an apple, and a goblet of water. He came and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, took a bite from the sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and then held it out.

"I thought you might want some proper food," he offered.

"You took a bite." It wasn't accusatory, just pointing it out.

"And I'm still standing."

Meaning it wasn't poisoned. Harry took it, confused but grateful, and Theo took a bite from the apple and a gulp of the water before putting them on Harry's bedside cabinet, proving them poison free as well.

"Thanks."

Theo shrugged, getting up and going to his own bed, dumping his book bag on it to pull out his stuff and swap it with what he needed for afternoon classes.

"Really," Harry said, finishing off the sandwich. "Thanks for this. And thanks for not making a big deal out of it."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. You'll just owe me a favour."

Harry paused with the apple halfway to his mouth. "What kind of favour?"

"I'll let you know when I want one."

"That sounds ominous."

Theo merely smiled, which wasn't encouraging.

At dinner, Harry sat with Tori at the Ravenclaw table, but it didn't ease his paranoia. He still couldn't make himself eat anything until he'd seen someone else eat some first, so for the following weeks he ate slowly, constantly watching his food and never taking anything from the tables in the Great Hall unless someone had some of it first. He knew he couldn't carry on like that forever, but until the poisoner was caught and he knew they weren't after him anymore, he couldn't make himself stop.

There was another Hogsmeade visit on the last day of term and Theo called in his favour, giving Harry some money and asking him to visit Scrivenshafts to get him a Quick Quotes Quill and some Interactive Ink. Harry noticed Tracey watching them as Theo handed over the money outside the Great Hall, and when Harry had signed out with Mr Wallace she came running up to him.

"Hey, Harry. Walk together?"

"Sure."

"What did Theo want?"

"Just asked me to get a couple of things for him. Where's Millicent?"

She was Tracey's best friend and Harry was surprised they weren't going down to the village together, but Tracey waved a dismissive hand. "She's with Pansy and Daphne. Needs help with her Christmas shopping. Speaking of which," she said, and slid an arm through Harry's, "I was hoping you could help me."

Harry looked in surprise from the grip on his arm to her face. "Er... how can I help you?"

"I want to get a present for Theo and you're his best friend so—"

"We're not really best friends," Harry said, but she went on without hearing.

"—I thought you could help me pick what to get him."

"We're not best friends."

"But you are close," Tracey insisted, smiling widely at him. "You're closer to him than anyone else. _Please_ won't you help me?"

This was news to Harry and a little sad, he thought. Did Theo really not have anyone more of a friend to him than Harry? But he realised, thinking about it, that it was true he'd never seen Theo hanging out with anyone from the other houses, and he was even more aloof with the other Slytherins than he was with Harry.

Tracey took his thoughtful pause as confirmation and squeezed his arm tighter. "Great. So what does he like?"

"Um... I think he likes Chocoballs. You could get him a box of those."

Tracey's nose wrinkled. "That's boring. I want to get him something he'll _really_ like. Something he'll appreciate, that'll make him think of me."

That comment coupled with what Pansy said on the last Hogsmeade weekend and how often Tracey spent staring at Theo made Harry suddenly realise what all this was about. Tracey had a crush on Theo, and she'd decided that Harry was her way of getting to him. A terrible idea on her part, because he had no idea how to handle that kind of thing. He'd never even had a crush on anyone, and he suddenly wondered if that was weird, but Tracey was tugging on his arm again so he decided to worry about it later. He'd ask Tori when they got home; she seemed to know a lot about having crushes.

"C'mon, Harry, you must know something about what he likes."

He racked his brains. What did Theo do in his downtime? There was a series of books he read repeatedly and he spent a lot of time writing. Stories, he told Harry. He had a novel he was working on, but he also wrote short stories and he got through a lot of ink, quills, and notebooks.

"Writing things?" Tracey said sceptically when Harry mentioned it.

"Something fancy," he suggested. "A really nice notebook or a phoenix feather quill or something. But not a Quick Quotes Quill, he's just asked me to get him one of those."

She thought about it for the rest of the walk down to the village and stuck with him to Scrivenshafts, looking around at what they had while Harry got the stuff Theo had asked for. She was still inspecting quills by the time he was paid up, frowning at the price tags.

"Do you want to look elsewhere?"

She nodded, but as they left the shop she latched onto his arm again and asked, "Do you think he'd be alright with a Muggle present?"

"Um... I'm not sure. He's a bit dismissive of Muggles. If it's good and useful though then he probably won't care."

Whether or not that was enough for her, he didn't get chance to find out. As they headed across the street to Dervish and Bangs, where Harry hoped to find a Saturnalia present for Tori, Padma Patil came running out from the small side street that housed a cafe and an apothecary, noticed Harry, and grabbed him by the arm, tugging him down the street, completely uncaring of the fact that Tracy was still hanging on Harry's other arm.

"Oh, Harry, come quick, it's Tori!"

Harry's eyes widened and he jerked out of Tracey's grip, picking up his pace as he followed Padma. "What's wrong? Is she hurt?"

"Yes—I mean, no, not exactly, but she—oh, just _come_!"

* * *

Lucius didn't know what to make of the Boy Who Lived. He hadn't realised, at the time of taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, that Harry wouldn't be in his classes. He knew the boy was advanced in his studies—Draco had mentioned it in letters several times—but he hadn't realised _how_ advanced and he couldn't deny his surprise at discovering Harry had passed three NEWTs before his thirteenth birthday.

He was disappointed too. He'd planned to use the lessons to get a feel for the boy, but he now had no excuse to be around Harry. He was not a Head of House and therefore not permitted into the common rooms, so the only times he saw Harry was at mealtimes and in the corridors, neither of which really gave him a chance to get to know the boy.

But on the last day of term he was assigned to be the chaperone for the Hogsmeade visit despite his efforts to get out of it. In truth, he didn't like teaching. He wasn't suited to it and if his teaching contract didn't state he would only work a year then he'd probably have already quit. He'd insisted on the year-long contract when he took the job, pointing out to Dumbledore that the headmaster couldn't know if he would be fit for it and angling the fact that they both knew he would be gone before the year's end anyway, like every other Defence teacher that'd been hired since Lucius' own school days.

He soon realised that the chaperone position for this particular visit—which meant wandering around Hogsmeade in the cold and wet, trying to keep an eye on a couple of hundred over-excited teenagers turned hyper by the upcoming holiday—was the unfortunate task designated every year to the new Defence teacher. Realising that the rest of the staff, who he generally avoided socialising with, were expecting him to moan about it, he accepted the task without complaint and merely focused on not hexing the students, the villagers and other adult visitors, or the other teachers who were taking the opportunity to nip into the Three Broomsticks. Watching McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra ordering alcoholic drinks, it struck him as supremely unprofessional. Three of them were Heads of Houses and if something came up they would need to be fit and capable of handling any problems. It wasn't the holiday yet, after all.

He left the Three Broomsticks with a snort when they gave him a brief greeting and teasingly asked how his day was. He would rather patrol the street than sit in the pub watching and listening to them. He was just glad that Gareth Martin wasn't with them. He seemed like an intelligent and level-headed man, if a bit overly cheerful at times, and he managed Slytherin well.

He was almost down to the far end of the village when he paused, seeing one of the Patil twins run out of a side street, grab Harry by the arm, and drag him down the street with an unmistakable sense of urgency. It was, he supposed, exactly the sort of thing he was meant to be keeping watch for as the official chaperone and he probably would have ignored it if that was all. They hadn't even _had_ chaperones in his day; the students weren't babies for Merlin's sake, they could look after themselves for a few hours. But as Harry was involved, he decided to follow them discreetly and see what was going on. Maybe it would give him a chance to learn something new about the Boy Who Lived.

But Patil merely dragged Harry to Madam Puddifoot's teashop, outside of which his sister sat on a bench, covered in bright yellow feathers from head to toe and sobbing into a napkin but apparently unharmed. Lucius watched a while as Harry removed the feathers with a wave of his wand and spoke to Tori, but it was clear nothing of interest was going to happen and he walked off again. Someone needed to demonstrate a true problem to Padma Patil so that she didn't go around looking concerned about trivial things.

He forgot about the entire incident until later that night when he was patrolling. Oddly enough, this was one part of his job that he didn't mind. He'd been restless ever since Draco and Narcissa's deaths, so he appreciated having an excuse to prowl the halls without people wondering why he wasn't in bed, and he thought better on his feet.

Nearly four months since discovering the diadem and he was no closer to figuring out what the sixth Horcrux was or, more importantly, _where_ it was. He wrote carefully worded letters to all the free Death Eaters that he thought might have been entrusted with it, and made plans to visit them during the winter holiday to have personal conversations which might reveal more than letters, but thus far there was no indication that any of them had been trusted as much as himself and Bellatrix.

He considered the possibility of his being wrong about the numbers, but he didn't give the thought much worth. Voldemort had been obsessed with magically significant numbers and Lucius couldn't believe that Voldemort would only split his soul into six pieces if he could split it into seven. That, of course, made him wonder if Voldemort _could_ split his soul into seven. The books he'd read on Horcruxes all said that splitting the soul was incredibly dangerous, and it didn't take a genius to read between the lines and realise that splitting the soul repeatedly might cause collateral damage to the body. It explained Voldemort's oddly inhuman appearance, but it also got Lucius thinking about Harry Potter-Valentine again.

Because the Potters' death had been important to Voldemort. He'd spent years initially trying to recruit James Potter—known to be powerful—and then trying to kill him and his young wife when it was clear he wouldn't come to their side. Lily Potter had never even been considered for it, of course, but her efforts in working against them had put an execution order on her head just as surely as James. Harry, of course, was significant for his part in the prophecy (which Lucius was beginning to think he should find out the full details of) and Lucius knew that Voldemort had planned to make a big show of the murder of Harry Potter, as the boy had been then. Lucius had even been there that night—not in the house, nor even the village proper, but stationed in the small woodland at the edge of the village, keeping an eye out for Aurors or any of Dumbledore's soldiers.

It occurred to him that it was possible Voldemort had tried to make his final Horcrux that night, using Harry's death to fuel the magic, and failed. Perhaps the last attempt to break up his soul had been too much damage for his soul to handle. It might even be why Harry had survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort had been rendered powerless.

He paused at a window that looked out over the lake, staring out idly, his thoughts still with Voldemort and Horcruxes. There were other issues to deal with when he found the last one, issues that he couldn't put off much longer. He had not yet actually destroyed any of them; he wanted to make sure he had them all first, so they were safely tucked away in his secret room below the drawing room until he was ready to unleash some Fiendfyre on them.

But there was Riddle to deal with. Lucius' fists clenched just thinking about him. He was nearly eighteen by now, but he was still serving his life sentence in Azkaban and as long as he was, Lucius could not kill him. He had enough pull within the Ministry to get visits—though even that was harder now that Narcissa was no longer incarcerated there—but he would never be able to murder an Azkaban inmate nor get one released even temporarily. As far as he could tell, he'd have to break Riddle out before he'd have chance to kill him and Lucius was not confident about that. Getting in was easy enough; it was the getting out that was near impossible. He could not break anyone out of there alone.

Then, of course, there was the real Voldemort. Or whatever was left of him. Rumour had it he was hiding somewhere in Albania at the moment. Wherever he was, Lucius suspected he'd have to find him eventually. He didn't know if Voldemort would feel his Horcruxes being destroyed—another reason to keep them locked away for now—but whether he knew or not, he would have to be killed. Lucius suspected that with the Horcruxes gone, Voldemort might just... die. Dissipate. Vanish. Whatever happened to people without proper bodies. It seemed logical; the Horcruxes kept him bound to the earth without a body, so without the Horcruxes either then he would surely be forced to move on like an exorcised spirit.

But Lucius couldn't be sure and so he felt it might be prudent to resurrect Voldemort before destroying the last Horcrux, so that he could be actually killed and Lucius could be sure he was truly gone. The last thing he wanted was to finish his quest of revenge only for Voldemort to come back to life and murder Lucius in slow and painful ways as punishment.

Which once again brought him back to Harry Potter-Valentine. He was the Boy Who Lived and the child of the prophecy; it might be that _he_ needed to be the one to kill Voldemort. How was Lucius meant to arrange that? He didn't know how willing Harry was to commit murder, even against the man who'd left him an orphan. Was Lucius supposed to sit on his thumbs waiting for Harry to get it together and realise what he had to do? That could take years and Lucius was not willing to wait that long to get his revenge.

So then what? Could he somehow spur Harry into killing Voldemort? Maybe if he knew about the prophecy he would be more inclined to go after Voldemort, but even so he might decide to wait until Voldemort was an actual threat rather than a distant figure... in which case Lucius needed to _make_ Voldemort a threat. His best option was getting Harry into a position where he had no choice but to face Voldemort. With any luck, Harry would kill him whether he intended to or not.

He suddenly noticed light and movement down by the lake. A couple of cloaked figures were at the edge of the water—third or fourth years, judging by the size of them. Curious as to what they were doing out by the lake so late on the last day of term, Lucius tapped his wand to the glass in the window, muttered " _Augeo_ ," and the view through the window zoomed in like a magnifying glass, giving him a far better view of the two figures by the lake. He saw two third year boys, Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner, but even as he watched there was a shimmer in the air and Harry Potter-Valentine and his sister suddenly appeared from beneath an Invisibility Cloak.

Although Lucius couldn't hear what was going on, it was clear that Harry and Tori weren't happy with the other two. The zoom on the window was enough that he could see their eyes narrowed, glinting slightly in the light coming from Tori's wand. As Lucius watched, Harry grew more and more agitated, his sister more annoyed, whilst the other two boys seemed irritated or amused, until eventually Harry drew his wand. Smith and Corner grew tense then, and with good reason. Not ten seconds later, Harry waved his wand and both of them went hurtling out over the lake, rising high above the water to dangle upside down. Harry appeared to be shouting at them and Lucius, staring at the boy wide-eyed, wished he could hear what was going on. Several times the suspended boys lurched towards the lake only to be jerked up again just before hitting it.

"HARRY POTTER-VALENTINE! PUT THOSE STUDENTS DOWN AND RETURN TO THE CASTLE THIS INSTANT!"

Lucius heard the voice yelling from the floor above, Minerva McGonagall's distinctive tones ringing through the ceiling over his head and the glass in front of him. Keen not to get found watching students torment one another when he'd been doing nothing to stop it, but also wanting to see the fallout, Lucius dispelled the charm on the window and hurried down the corridor to the staircase he knew McGonagall would have to go down to get to the Entrance Hall. He waited at the edge, out of sight, until he saw her hurry past then followed her as far as the main marble staircase.

McGonagall reached it just as the students came traipsing in from outside. McGonagall, already prepared to deliver a furious lecture, stopped short when she saw that Smith and Corner were soaking wet from head to toe and shivering violently, whilst Harry and Tori were merely damp around the feet where they'd walked through the snow.

"He d-dropped us in t-the l-l-lake!" Smith spat out through chattering teeth, glowering at Harry.

McGonagall looked stunned. She spluttered a moment, then turned on Harry. "Explain yourself!"

"You told me to drop them," Harry said unrepentantly. "So I did."

McGonagall swelled. Harry and Tori, who had both been looking rather smug, wilted, expressions turning slightly fearful.

"I did not mean for you to drop them in the lake and you know it!" McGonagall cried. "This is outrageous behaviour. Attacking fellow students is completely unacceptable, and to drop them in freezing water in mid-December—!"

It suddenly occurred to her that said students were still soaked to the bone and shivering from cold and she hurriedly cast drying charms on them before ordering them up to the Hospital Wing to get safely warmed up. They hurried away gladly, barely sparing Lucius a glance as they went by, still shivering.

Down in the Entrance Hall, McGonagall furiously admonished Harry for his attack and Tori for standing by and doing nothing, the siblings cringing before her and not lifting their gaze from the flagstone floor even when they answered her question of why they did it (revenge for a prank pulled on Tori in Hogsmeade). McGonagall ended the lecture with a promise to write to their parents, fifty points taken from each of them, and a detention apiece before eventually dismissing them to their houses with a stern warning as to what they could expect if they didn't go straight back.

As Harry disappeared down the entrance to the dungeons and Tori sullenly started up the marble staircase, McGonagall not far behind, Lucius quickly and quietly moved away so as not to get seen by the other teacher. His own rooms were up on the fourth floor and he headed towards them. It was earlier than he normally went to bed and he wasn't tired anyway, but he didn't feel restless anymore and he wanted to sit before the fire with a glass of whiskey to think. Once again his mind was back on Voldemort's Horcruxes, but now it was racing, whirling at the implications of the new idea that struck him when he saw Harry throw Smith and Corner out over the lake.

Because for the briefest moment when Harry—this thirteen year old who could perform spells the seventh years were still learning, who was a Parselmouth, who was sorted into Slytherin despite coming from a family that produced as many Gryffindors as the Malfoys produced Slytherins—had flung out his wand and snarled the spell against Smith and Corner, the light from Tori's wand had flashed over his eyes and Lucius could have sworn he saw a flicker of red in the emerald green, and he suddenly wondered if it was possible for living creatures to become Horcruxes.

* * *

Theo never had trouble getting his hands on alcohol. It was about the only benefit of having an alcoholic for an older sister. He only had to write to her asking for a bottle of Ogden's finest and she obliged him. Their father had been the reason she turned to drink, so she didn't question why he would want it too, even at Christmas which she had to know he was spending at Hogwarts. He didn't worry about the teachers confiscating it before the owl delivered it to him, either; they wouldn't think that students would ever be so bold as to have alcohol mailed directly to them.

The sixth years didn't question it either when he offered it up in exchange for letting him join them as they smoked pot. It was another thing his sister introduced him to and he preferred getting high to getting drunk. It was Christmas night and the sixth years were already high and a little tipsy on beer, therefore more than willing to accept more alcohol into their festivities of the night even if it meant letting a third year hang out with them.

With the firewhiskey, it didn't take long for the sixth years to be thoroughly wasted and so not even notice when Theo took out his Quick Quotes Quill, put it to a bit of parchment, and let it scribble away as the sixth years joked and chatted with each other. He calibrated it to a high accuracy so that it wouldn't embellish what it heard, even though it meant the quill worked a little slower. They hadn't spoken to him much before then, more interested in their drugs and alcohol, but with both in their system they eased up about hanging out with a third year and let him get involved with their conversation. High but not drunk, it wasn't too hard for Theo to guide their conversation onto the topics he wanted: Quidditch and Harry. He was working a hunch and he had no guarantee his plan would work, but he was willing to try, for his friend's sake.

* * *

Harry and Tori received no punishment from their parents for the attack on Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner. Aside from feeling McGonagall's punishment was more than enough, Gabriel and Lorna considered their act of revenge perfectly justified after Tori explained how Corner and Smith had tricked her into thinking she was meant to meet Corner outside of Madam Puddifoot's for a date, only to leap out on her while she stood waiting and hit her with a Sticking Charm before dumping a bucket of feathers on her head.

"Much better!" Corner had shouted while Smith howled with laughter. "Now that I can't see your face properly, I think I might actually want to date you!"

Harry was very surprised when Gareth visited the house on the morning of the twenty-seventh, but delighted with the news he brought.

"We've found the one that poisoned you. Terrence Higgs."

"Another student?" Lorna asked.

"He's a sixth year in Slytherin," Harry explained. "He was the Seeker before me."

"The reason for the poisoning," Gareth said. "He wanted his position on the team back."

"He is expelled." Gabriel didn't ask it. He said it with a very clear tone that if Higgs wasn't expelled then Gabriel would have more than just words to say about the matter.

Gareth nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes. Expelled immediately. Out of the castle already, but it'll be up to you to press charges if you wish to, Lord Valentine. Higgs is seventeen, and was at the time of the poisoning, so he'd be tried as an adult if you choose to."

"Duly noted."

"Sir, how'd you find out?" Harry asked Gareth.

"Higgs and his friends snuck some alcohol into the castle on Christmas night and he made a drunken confession."

"I'm glad you caught him. Thanks, sir... Gareth."

Gareth gave them a smile, tapped two fingers to his head in a salute, and left.

"Are you going to press charges?" Harry asked Gabriel, who scoffed quietly.

"I don't put my trust in human courts. I will make sure this Higgs pays for trying to harm you."

Harry didn't ask how.

That evening he was out in the rose garden with Tori, both wrapped snugly in cloaks and scarfs with their hands clutching steaming mugs of hot cocoa. It was almost midnight, well past what had become their normal bedtime, but they were always uninclined to sleep earlier when they were back home. The house and grounds were covered with a fresh layer of snow, beautifully picturesque, and Harry brought up the matter of girlfriends and how he'd never fancied anyone.

"You never had a crush on _anyone_? Not even Tracey Davis? You went to Hogsmeade with her."

"Not _together_ together. She just wanted me to help her pick a Christmas present for Theo. She fancies him."

"Huh," Tori said. "Well, it's probably not _bad_. I don't think it means there's anything wrong with you. Maybe you just don't like anyone at school."

"I like them as friends."

"Well, yeah, but other than that. Don't you think anyone's pretty? Or handsome? Are you gay?"

"I don't think so," he said unsurely. "I do think people are pretty and handsome, but I'm not sure I have a crush on them."

"Who?" she asked eagerly.

"Um, well, Tracey Davies, Daphne Greengrass, Lisa and Padma—but don't tell them that, please!—and Susan Bones, Parvati Patil, and Anita. And a bunch of older students I don't know the names of."

"I won't tell. Which boys do you like?"

"Ernie Macmillan's nice to look at. Zacharias Smith even though he's a git."

"Understatement of the century," Tori grumbled. "But he is stupidly good looking. Anyone else?"

"Dean Thomas, Terry Boot, Antony Goldstein, and... and Theo. And some older kids as well."

A grin spread across Tori's face. "You fancy Theo?"

"No!" he insisted, feelings his cheeks grow hot. "I don't fancy him, I just think he's nice to look at. It's just like looking at butterflies—I think they're pretty but I don't want to go out with them."

"Urgh, no way. Have you ever wanted to kiss anyone? People, not butterflies," she clarified, prompting him to scowl at her.

"No," he answered, but added, "Never really thought about it, to be honest."

"Maybe you should do that, then," she suggested. She finished off her drink, sighed softly, then stood. "I'm going back inside. Coming?"

He shook his head. He was enjoying it outside and the rose garden was beautiful to look at. The flowers were enchanted to protect them from the cold weather and still in full bloom, a riot of colour amidst the white snow. The sky was clear, the stars bright and the moon full, and he idly conjured a swarm of butterflies to join him. He liked having the colourful bugs flittering about his head.

"Lovely night."

He jumped, glad his mug was mostly empty, and looked around. A white woman dressed in white trousers and a white vest stood nearby, hands clasped behind her, a slight smile on her face as she looked down at him. Her skin seemed almost to glow slightly in the moonlight, and the only part of her that wasn't white was the jet black hair hanging in gentle waves past her shoulders. He didn't need to see her fangs to know she was a vampire.

"I apologise, I didn't mean to make you jump."

"It's alright. It is nice. I like looking at the stars without having to actually study them."

"You're not a fan of astronomy?"

"No, I'm really bad at it. Are you new to the nest? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

She stepped forward and held out her hand. "You must be Harry."

He nodded, shaking, but when he tried to pull his hand back she kept hold. "Forgive me," she murmured, bending and reaching her other hand up to stroke a finger over the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He noticed she hadn't told him her name yet. "I've heard so much about you, Harry."

"Please let go of me."

She didn't. He set down his mug beside him and reached for his wand, slowly, trying not to let her notice. Fortunately she was completely focused on his face.

"Amazing that you survived the Killing Curse as a child... the power you must have... I can smell it on you... what you must taste like, I hardly dare imagine..."

She leant in closer, inhaling deeply, and he jerked his wand up—

Then stopped, staring at her. She was incredibly beautiful, he noticed. Stunningly so. More than any person he'd ever seen before and he couldn't imagine why he'd ever want to curse her. He let go of the wand and it jerked back on its strap, thumping against his thigh as she tugged him to his feet.

"You will let me have a little taste, won't you, Harry?"

He nodded numbly, not taking his gaze off her, and didn't fight when she let go of his hand to pull away his scarf and turn his head aside slightly, baring his throat. She leant in and he shivered at the feel of her lips against his neck, then gasped softly when teeth pierced his flesh. It hurt for only a moment and then he felt just a firm pressure on his neck, but he became suddenly hyper aware of the gentle breeze around them, of the hand on his chin and the other on his back, of the blood rushing in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest. He sighed softly, eyes closing, and thought that he could happily die like this. Certainly it was better than getting torn apart by hellhounds. And what was dying, really? The next great adventure, Flamel had called it. He was ready for that, he decided, ready to go on to whatever came next.

"Harry!"

The woman drew back and only then did he realise she'd lowered him to the floor, bent over him, the snow making his hair wet and seeping through his cloak. Her lips were stained red with his blood, and with her pale skin and black hair he thought suddenly of the tale of Snow White. She pressed a finger to his lips, whispered "Shh..." and then vanished into the dark.

"Harry, it's time to come inside! Where are you?"

He sat up and tried to stand, but staggered and dropped back down again, his legs weak. He stared into the darkness, trying to see the woman again, wishing she hadn't left him, and then looked up when someone else stepped up beside him.

"There you are," Lorna said, frowning down at him. "What—"

She broke off, eyes going wide and nostrils flaring, then crouched and nudged his head aside to look at the wound on his neck. Next moment she lifted him easily off the floor and hurried him into the house so fast the scenery blurred around him.

"GABRIEL!"

He thought he must have passed out briefly, because the next thing he knew he was sat on the sofa in Gabriel's office, Gabriel himself holding him up with one arm while the other hand held a vial of blood red potion to his lips. Lorna hovered nearby, chewing worriedly at her nails.

"Drink, Harry."

He did so, gulping down the thick, coppery tasting potion. "Bleagh," he said when it was done. "What was that?"

"Blood replenishing potion. Lay back. You need to rest."

He did as told, snuggling under the blanket that Gabriel pulled over him. "You looked worried," he noted, staring up at his father. "And angry."

"I am," Gabriel said softly. "You've been attacked."

"Attacked? No, I wasn't."

"You were bit, Harry."

"Oh, that. It's okay. It wasn't bad."

"Harry, you've been put under the seduction. Do you understand that?"

He closed his eyes with a sigh, pressing his cheek into the leather of the sofa, feeling pleasantly sleepy. "Don't be silly. No one would do that. You'd kill 'em."

"Yes, I shall, but I need to know who it was, Harry. Can you tell me?"

"Snow White," he murmured, and heard Gabriel hiss in a sharp breath before sleep took him.

* * *

"You know who he's talking about."

Gabriel nodded, smoothing the hair back from Harry's face before rising to his feet and facing Lorna. "Aurelia."

"What does she want?"

"War, if she is attacking our children."

"Why? What's her purpose, Gabriel?"

"The same purpose as always: she wants me destroyed."

"This woman needs to learn to let go of a grudge," Lorna said angrily. "It has been nearly two thousand years."

"I cannot blame her for wanting her sister's killer dead."

"You had good reason for murdering your sis-"

"Her," Gabriel interrupted harshly. " _Her_ sister. Not mine. Never mine."

Lorna stepped up to him, taking his hands in hers and kissing his cheek. "She hasn't destroyed you yet; she won't now."

He squeezed her hands and turned his head to kiss her mouth, and then sighed. "We will have to improve the house protections. I hadn't thought she could get past. We're increasing security, but it's Hogwarts I worry about. We cannot protect him there."

"You can't pull them out," Lorna chided gently. "They love it there; they'd hate you."

"I know. But something has to be done. I will think on it."

* * *

For the few days it took to brew the potion that nullified the effects of vampire seduction, Harry went around feeling extremely annoyed with everyone in the house and wishing he was back at Hogwarts. So what if he was under the seduction by Gabriel's life-long enemy? He was fine. True, she'd fed on him for so long that he needed a blood replenishing potion, but he was alive, wasn't he? He certainly didn't need people watching him every hour that he was awake, nor an escort whenever he went into the garden even if Tori was getting that too, and he didn't see what the big deal was. Aurelia seemed like a perfectly lovely person to him. More than perfectly lovely. Absolutely wonderful, and if she ever wanted to feed from him again he was more than happy to oblige.

The potion was ready on the second of January, but he'd convinced himself he didn't need it by then. He didn't _want_ to come out of the seduction. He _liked_ it. He liked Aurelia—loved her, in fact, and he was not going to let them brainwash him into hating her. He screamed obscenities at his parents, called them names, and tried to take the potion from them, intending to pour it down the sink or just smash it to the floor as long it at meant they couldn't feed it to him.

In the end, Gabriel and Lorna had to pin him down, holding him still and forcing his jaws apart so Jennifer could pour the potion into mouth, then clamping a hand over his mouth so he couldn't spit it out before Jennifer spelled his throat muscles into swallowing against his will. Unlike before, it tasted bitter and foul and he felt the effects of it immediately. It was like someone wiped a board eraser over his brain, cleaning away the love and adoration he had for Aurelia to leave him faintly terrified at how willing he'd been to give himself over to her.

Gabriel and Lorna stopped holding him down, but the after effects of the potion left him physically trembling, his mind reeling, and Lorna wrapped a blanket about his shoulders then pulled him against her in a hug, murmuring soothing nonsense until he calmed down. When the shock passed, he was left feeling mostly embarrassed as he remembered all the things he'd called them.

"'m sorry for saying you were bad parents," he said, still nestled against Lorna's side. They were in Gabriel's office and Gabriel himself sat at his desk. "I didn't mean it."

"We know," Lorna assured him, pressing a kiss to his hair. "It was that horrible woman messing with your head."

"How do you feel about Aurelia now?" Gabriel asked.

"Afraid," Harry answered honestly. "And angry."

"Good. That's how you should feel. Aurelia is a very powerful vampire and a very dangerous person."

"Why did she come here? Why attack me? She must know how angry it would make you."

"That's why she did it. It was her way of telling me that she's coming after me again. I did wonder when she would; it's been a couple of hundred years since she last tried."

"What started your rivalry?"

"I murdered her sister," Gabriel told him quietly. "When we were human."

Harry sat up, staring at him in surprise. He'd always known that Gabriel had killed people, even as a human because he'd been part of a wizarding legion of the Roman Army, but he could tell from Gabriel's tone that this death was not an act of war. "Why?"

Gabriel glanced away, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk, and sighed softly before explaining. "Porcia was only really Aurelia's half sister. Their mother was one of my father's slaves, and while Aurelia was the legitimate child of the slave and her husband, Porcia was the bastard child of my father."

"She was _your_ sister?"

"In blood only," Gabriel said sharply. "My father did not recognise her and nor did I, albeit for different reasons. My father did not like daughters and to his great annoyance he fathered a number of them, both from my mother and with various slaves and mistresses. I was one of three sons and the only legitimate one. As such, I was the most favoured despite being the youngest of all my father's children. Porcia resented me for it and once my full sisters were married off and left home, she took advantage of my father being often absent at work and my mother weak and sickly and began abusing me."

"Didn't you tell your father? He'd have stopped it, wouldn't he?"

"Perhaps, but I was too ashamed to say anything."

"What, because it was a girl? Or because she was a slave?"

"Both, in part," Gabriel said quietly, "and because some of the abuse was sexual."

"Oh," Harry said, not sure what to say to that, but Gabriel just continued with his story.

"It went on for several years until I was sixteen, at which point I had enough and I killed her in a fit of rage. Because she was a slave whilst I was the son of one of the emperor's chief advisors, I was never punished for it. Aurelia has hated me ever since; Porcia was her only sister and they were extremely close."

"Does Aurelia know what Porcia did to you?"

Gabriel nodded. "She always knew, but she did not care. My father was not a kind master and they felt that attacking me was just retaliation for how he treated the household slaves."

"That's horrible."

"Yes. It was also a long time ago and I, at least, have long dealt with it. Aurelia, unfortunately, refuses to let go of the matter."

"Why haven't you killed her too? Now that you're vampires, I mean. You said this isn't the first time she's attacked you."

"I've tried, but her vampiric power has always been equal to mine and she's sly and clever. We have both come close to killing each other more than once, but we've both got away in time or survived by sheer luck."

"Do you think she'll try attacking me again?" Harry asked, unable to suppress a shudder at the thought. Lorna's arm tightened around his shoulders and Gabriel came out from behind the desk to crouch in front of Harry, clasping both Harry's hands in his and holding Harry's gaze firmly.

"I will not let her. We've already arranged for expert security measures to be installed around the house and grounds—magical and Muggle—and I will take steps to make sure you're protected at Hogwarts, too."

"What steps?"

"I'm not sure yet, but rest assured you will not be hurt by her again. I will not allow it."

His electric blue eyes were intense and earnest, and Harry didn't doubt him for a second.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Part of Gabriel's efforts to protect Harry and Tori was to give them some more of his blood. It would help stave off the effects of vampire seduction and he gave them what amounted to a whole mouthful this time, rather than just a small swipe. They felt the effects of it within two days—neither of them could venture out on even an overcast day without the Shades Spell or very dark sunglasses, they could hear whispers through a wall without even straining their ears, and while Tori found herself able to snap inch-thick sticks with barely any effort, Harry found his reflexes fast enough to catch the peas she flicked at him during dinner one day.

"Be good for Quidditch," Tori told him, "even though I'm pretty sure it's cheating."

"S'not cheating," Harry countered. "It's just good fortune. Besides, not like you can tell anyone even if it is cheating."

The downside was that once they got on the train back to Hogwarts for the spring term, even the noise of only half the students was enough to make them stick their wands in their ears and cast Sound Dulling Spells, and in the dorm Harry had to put charms on his bed at night to block out the snores coming from the neighbouring fourth year dorm.

Theo accosted Harry on the first night back when he finished putting Samantha back in her terrarium, looking more lively than Harry had ever seen him before, and insisted on showing him the present that Tracey had sent him for Christmas—fifty different coloured gel pens, including sparkly and scented ones.

"They're amazing," Theo gushed, much to Harry's amusement. "They don't leak or blot, the nibs are really resilient, and they're _all_ self-inking! No refilling it every other line! Say what you like about Muggles, but they obviously know how to make a good writing instrument."

"Tracey'll be glad you like them."

Some of Theo's delight faded then. "Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not blind, I know what she wants. She's probably expecting me to ask her out now."

"Do you want to ask her out?"

He didn't even hesitate. "No. But look at these—it can't have been cheap to buy this lot. Self-inking quills are always pricey."

"Not in the Muggle world. All their pens are self-inking, although they're not called that. But I don't think you have to ask someone out just because they get you a present."

"She'll expect _something_ in return. That's how it works, Harry. No one does anything for nothing and puts their name to it. Maybe she'll be happy if I go with her to Hogsmeade."

Harry was surprised. "I thought you weren't allowed."

"My father finally sent in his signature."

"That's good. Is it true you weren't allowed before because you did magic in the summer holiday? That's what Daphne said."

"Yes," he said, but his answer was curt and he turned his back, making it clear Harry wasn't to ask any more.

He got a note at breakfast the next morning about his detention, saying it would be that evening and he would be polishing everything in the trophy room under Mr Wallace's watchful gaze. He moaned about it until he found out Tori was scrubbing bedpans in the Hospital Wing then decided he was better off.

He arrived at the trophy room at six o'clock that evening, took the cloth and polish from Mr Wallace, and got to work, but five minutes into rubbing a Special Award for Services to the School, awarded in 1554 to Henry Divot, the trophies began to hop about inside their cabinets. Mr Wallace leapt up from the chair he'd pulled up to watch Harry work.

"Stop that!"

"It's not me!" Harry cried, raising both hands defensively and stepping away from the cabinets. The trophies were now bouncing like hyperactive kangaroos, smashing the glass fronts of their cabinets. The bottle of polish and the cloth Harry was using started to join in and he dropped them both, whilst the portraits on the walls began swinging on their hooks, the occupants knocked off their feet, and Mr Wallace's chair started to dance across the floor. Mr Wallace drew his own wand and attempted to make everything stop, but when his spells didn't work he turned on Harry again.

"Look, kiddo, this won't get you out of detention and it's not funny, so stop it before I give you another one."

"I'm not even touching my wand!"

"Mr Wallace!"

The caretaker whipped around as Lucius Malfoy entered the room. He didn't seem concerned by the chaos around him.

"Professor Malfoy! Look what this scoundrel is doing!"

Lucius lazily looked around the room then settled his eyes back on Mr Wallace, undisguised dislike on his face.

"This is clearly the result of a Walking Havoc Jinx, not something a student would put on themselves. Kindly remove yourself to my office. Peeves has attacked it with paint bombs and I do not want it soaking into the furniture."

"Fine, you can deal with this lot and watch over the rest of the kid's detention," Mr Wallace said, and waited just long enough to see if Lucius would object to this before he headed out the room. Lucius watched him go and then turned to Harry, who let his hand drop to the wand at his hip.

"I will remove the jinx on you."

Harry nodded hesitantly. He was mostly sure Lucius wouldn't outright curse a student, but he couldn't help being a little wary of the man. He had no choice about accepting his help, though; the counter-spell for the Walking Havoc Jinx, which caused general chaos in the vicinity of the jinxed person, couldn't be performed on one's self. The objects in the room were growing more active by the minute and the portrait occupants had all abandoned their frames for safer canvases. Someone must have sneakily place it on him as he was heading to his detention or the effects would have started sooner.

But instead of a simple flick and two-word counter-spell, Lucius moved his wand in a large, sweeping arc in front of Harry, then jerked it sharply downwards and slowly back up again, quietly muttering a lengthy spell. His voice was little more than the noise of exhaled breath, but Harry, with his hearing so advanced by the blood Gabriel gave him over the holiday, could still make out the words he was saying.

"What the _hell_?!" he yelped, jerking his wand up and jumping backwards, almost tripping over a trophy that'd bounced out of its cabinet. He stumbled, caught himself, and planted his feet, wand raised before him, Shield Charm and Stunning Spell on the tip of his tongue, but Lucius had already completed his spell and they both inhaled sharply as rings of black smoke puffed out of Harry's head, throat, and wrists. They lingered for a moment like ghostly jewellery, the one about his head like a halo, rotating slowly, and then dispersed.

Lucius's stunned look gave way to one of barely concealed triumph. Harry's was horrified.

"That was a Dark Magic Detection spell," he whispered, mouth dry. Lucius looked surprised.

"Yes, it was."

"Why would you cast that on me?"

"I noticed signs of dark magic about you."

"What signs?" Harry asked sharply.

"Small things. It was a matter of intuition—I _am_ the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—and clearly I was well advised to follow up on my suspicions." He glanced at Harry's wand and his clear willingness to use it against him, then said, "I will remove the Walking Havoc Jinx now. Do not hex me."

"You expect me to trust you _now_?"

"Yes, because these trophies are getting on my nerves."

Extremely wary now, Harry nodded, not lowering his wand as Lucius raised his again, but the man did as he promised and removed the jinx. Around them, the trophies clattered to the floor and the portraits stopped swinging around and bouncing on their pegs. With another flick, everything returned to its proper position and the glass cabinets repaired themselves then Lucius turned back to Harry.

"Come with me. I will determine the nature of the dark magic around you."

He turned to walk away, clearly expecting Harry to follow, but Harry stayed put. "Why?"

Lucius stopped, turned back, one eyebrow raised. "Surely you want to know the nature of the dark magic on you? It could be harmful. Unless you already know what it is."

Harry hesitated. He knew _some_ of the dark magic. He's used spells that were classified as dark out of curiosity and because Gabriel told him that the modern definitions of dark and light magic hadn't always applied, so he figured it didn't _really_ matter as long as he didn't hurt anyone or do it at school. But he didn't think the handful of spells he'd cast would produce such strong evidence of dark magic. He knew that with the spell Lucius cast, the darker and thicker the smoke around him, the stronger the dark magic about his person.

His smoke had been pitch black and denser than a badly cooked soufflé.

Unfortunately, like with the Walking Havoc counter-spell, the most effective spells to determine the nature of magic on an individual couldn't be done by oneself.

"You can come with me, Potter-Valentine, or we can go to the headmaster and you can explain to him why you're so full of..." he paused, glancing at the portraits as the occupants began to return to their frames, "... that magic."

"I'm not _full_ of it," Harry snapped, even though the spell suggested he was. But he didn't want to go to Dumbledore. The headmaster seemed to like him well enough, but Harry doubted he'd be so forgiving about a student who performed dark magic. "Fine, I'll come with you, but if you try anything I'll curse you."

"Threatening a teacher, Potter-Valentine?" He tutted. "I ought to take points."

Harry just glared. Lucius seemed almost amused.

"I promise you I mean you no harm. I swear it on my magic."

Harry snorted. "I'm not an idiot, Professor Malfoy. I know that's about as meaningful as saying you cross your heart and hope to die."

Lucius frowned. "I most certainly do not hope that."

"Exactly. It's just what Muggles say when they make a promise, but obviously it doesn't _actually_ do anything to them if they do break the promise."

"Pity," Lucius murmured. "But I assure you I am not some Muggle filth that does not keep their word. Do you really think me fool enough to harm you, of all people, in Hogwarts? Even if I escaped the castle undetected, your parents would undoubtedly hunt me down and drain every last drop of blood from my body."

"Slowly," Harry agreed. "And painfully."

"Quite. So, shall we?"

He gestured to the door and Harry nodded, following him out. "Where are we going anyway? I thought your office was covered in paint. And what about my detention?"

Lucius paused. "Oh, that. Do you know how to polish things by magic? Do that," he said when Harry nodded. "Wallace won't be done with my office for hours; no one will be any the wiser."

Surprised but not about to argue with getting out of detention, Harry quickly spell-shined each of the trophies and then vanished the polish from its bottle so it would look as if he'd used it all. Once done, Lucius led him to a nearby classroom that wasn't used for anything, checked there was no one hiding away in it invisible, and then locked the door, charmed the room so no ghosts would be able to float in suddenly, and put up silencing spells. It made Harry a little edgy to be shut away with him like that, but he reminded himself that he was perfectly able to defend himself, and his wand strap would ensure Lucius couldn't disarm him like Riddle had two years ago.

"Ready?" Lucius said, finally turning to him. Harry nodded, hand tight on his wand, eyes fixed on Lucius' as he began to move it, ears pricked for the murmur of his spells.

At first Lucius cast a couple of fairly basic detection spells, but they provided little more information than the first one had. He watched Harry closely as he cast them, as if he sought to learn more from Harry's reactions to the magic than from the results of the spells. Then he cast a more complex spell that enclosed Harry's head in a cage of silvery light for a few seconds and made him abruptly dizzy. He staggered, lifting a hand to his head as the cage faded away, and didn't object when Lucius grabbed his arm and steadied him.

"Alright?"

Harry nodded, the dizziness fading. "It's in my head. Whatever that magic is, it's in my head."

"Yes. There is another spell I want to use."

He did not wait for Harry to say if he was ready or ask any questions about the spell, merely stepped back, raised his wand, and made several grandiose gestures with it and his other hand, moving it in great sweeping arcs like an over-enthusiastic orchestral conductor. He spoke—almost sung—the spell aloud, not muttering or murmuring the guttural archaic words like he had with the others, and Harry felt a growing horror as he realised what spell Lucius was casting. He looked down at himself, heart clenching inside his chest as vines of black coiled on his skin. He wasn't sure whether it was his imagination or not, but he swore he could feel them creeping down his face, spreading out from his scar to engulf his whole head before reaching further, around his neck and over his body, down his arms and legs, until his hands had gone completely black. He knew every other part of himself was as well.

When Lucius finished the spell, Harry staggered over to a chair and sat down hard, hands trembling as he stared at them. They were not a natural human black, but the absolute darkness of the space between the stars. Even the whites of his nails were changed and he suspected that his eyes probably were too.

He closed them, burying his face in his hands and saying nothing as Lucius murmured another, shorter spell, and shivered. He knew the darkness would be receding now, but he didn't open his eyes to look.

"You're not harmed," Lucius said. "Your skin is back to normal."

Harry laughed, the noise humourless and strange to his own ears. " _Not harmed_. That's hilarious. I'm a Horcrux. How is that even _possible_?"

There was silence for a long minute. Harry didn't expect Lucius to actually have an answer for him and when the man spoke, his voice was full of shock.

"You _know_?"

Harry didn't look up, but nodded, face still in his hands. "I know that spell. It detects them. I'm one, but _how?_ " He finally lowered his hands, staring at his pink palms and then lifting his gaze to Lucius. "You know, don't you? You must know something to even consider using that spell on me." When Lucius said nothing, Harry got to his feet. He'd let go of his wand while Lucius cast the Horcrux detection spell on him and it'd snapped back to his hip on the strap, but he drew it up again now. "Tell me, professor. How can I be a Horcrux without knowing it? I know how they're made and I think I would have noticed someone murdering someone and turning me into a host for half their soul."

"Would you?" Lucius said quietly. He stared at Harry, who suspected that he was extremely caught out by the fact that Harry knew about Horcruxes. He'd probably planned to lie about what his last spell did and now his mind was racing to figure out how to deal with it.

"Of course I would, I'd have to be a complete idiot not to notice, either that or..."

"Or...?"

Harry swallowed thickly. "Or too young to remember," he said, just as quiet as Lucius. "That's it, isn't it? It's—oh god, I'm gonna be sick."

He lurched for the rubbish bin, thankful it was not a mesh-framed one like in some classrooms, and emptied his stomach into it.

* * *

Gabriel didn't use the seduction against Terrence Higgs. He didn't deserve the reprieve of the false calm and happiness that the seduction could induce. He and Lorna went to his house with a handful of nest vampires and, without making a sound that would wake his sleeping parents, they took him from his room and packed up a bag to make it appear as if he'd left by choice.

Back at the manor, they locked Higgs in an empty room and let him scream himself hoarse while Gabriel looked over the thin, leather bound book detailing the Animancupium bonding ritual. He already knew it by heart; he'd read it repeatedly in the past two weeks.

"You're sure about this, Gabriel?" Lorna asked him, hands on his shoulders as he sat in his desk chair. "That boy is barely a grown adult."

"He may not be old enough that I would turn him, but he's old enough to be considered an adult by the humans and more than old enough to understand the implications of attempting to murder our son."

"This ritual may kill him. Or turn him, and he's not yet twenty-one."

"If he dies, then so be it; I will not feel guilty for it. He is old enough by my own rules and by human law, which also decrees he is old enough to be turned even if I hate to turn someone so young." He tilted his head back to look up at her and put a hand over the one on his shoulder. "We need to know, Lorna."

"I know," she said, bending down to kiss him. "I just want to make sure you're prepared to deal with whatever outcome happens."

The second door in his office, one that blended in with the woodwork so well it was impossible to see unless one knew it was there, lead through to the nest's area. There was a short, wide corridor beyond with a few doors leading off it and an archway that led into the main foyer of the east wing. They went through one of the doors and down a staircase to a windowless basement room where Higgs was on the floor, back to the wall, hands chained above his head. He'd given up screaming, but when they entered he rattled his chains and instantly demanded, "Let me out of here!"

"Or what?" Gabriel asked smoothly, baring his fangs. Higgs' heart rate jumped, but he did a good job of keeping the fear off his face.

"You'll regret it, vampire. When I get out of here, the whole Ministry will have you arrested and executed. I know people!"

"What a coincidence, so do we," Lorna said with false sweetness.

"I know _important_ people!"

"Gosh, do you really? Do tell, I'm all a flutter."

Her tone seemed to put him off a bit and he hesitated.

"What's the matter? Can't remember their names. Here, let me tell you what important people _we_ know at the Ministry. There's Rufus Scrimgeour—"

"Head of the Auror Division," Gabriel said, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the Animancupium book held loosely in the other. "Lovely fellow."

"—Bartemius Crouch—"

"Department of International Magical Cooperation. Doesn't like us _at all_."

"—Mirabella Vex—"

"Vampire Liasion Office. _Charming_ woman. Exquisite blood."

"—and Marcus Fleetwood."

"Department of Mysteries. Tough old fellow, not someone you want to sink your fangs into, but he does owe us a rather large favour."

"Is that everyone?"

"Everyone worth mentioning."

"So who do you know?" Lorna asked Higgs, who'd darted his eyes between them like he was at a tennis match, growing paler with each name they spoke. When he said nothing, Gabriel straightened up from the wall and took his hand from his pocket, slapping his fingers against the book.

"We _did_ forget someone. Not Ministry related, but very important nevertheless."

"Who?"

"Harry Potter-Valentine."

Lorna snapped her fingers. "That's true. Gods, how could I forget? And him being our son!"

Higgs made a strange, choked noise, and they smiled down at him. He whimpered and pressed himself back against the wall behind him.

"So sorry," Gabriel said, his overly-light tone now soft and laced with danger. "We neglected to introduce ourselves. I'm Lord Gabriel Valentine and this is my wife, Lady Lorna. And you..." He crouched, putting himself head level with Higgs, who looked as if he wanted to melt through the wall. "You tried to murder our son."

Higgs shook his head, swallowing thickly. "No," he said, voice raspy. "N-no, that wasn't what I meant to happen. I didn't try to kill him, I swear. I just wanted to put him out of the match. That was all!"

"Oh. That was all?"

"Just an accident?" Lorna said, looking down her nose at Higgs' and folding her arms over her chest. "Mistake in the dosage? Misread the effects of the potion?"

Higgs nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes, that was it. Just an accident, I never meant to nearly kill him."

"We're glad to hear that," Gabriel told him, "but nevertheless you _did_ poison our son and you _did_ nearly kill him, and we're extremely protective of our children. So congratulations, you're now the guinea pig in a little experiment I need to perform."

"W-what experiment?"

Gabriel's only answer was to smile and flip open the book to a dog-eared page then pass it up to Lorna before drawing a knife from his pocket. He cut a line across Higgs' palm, ignoring his struggles and pleading cries to stop, then cut an identical wound across his own and pressed their hands together. Higgs shrieked as if in agony, although the book said the ritual was essentially painless.

"No! Don't turn me, I don't want to be a monster!"

That made Gabriel grab his chin, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. "You're already a monster. No one else poisons a child."

He kept his grip on Higgs' jaw to keep him quiet as he recited the lengthy Latin ritual he'd memorised. As he spoke it, he could feel the power building in their hands, could feel his own magic latching onto Higgs' soul as the ritual went on. When he spoke the final word, two ribbons of light leapt out from their joined hands, one of blood red that wrapped itself around Higgs' arm, the other a sickly green that wrapped around Gabriel's arm, both glowing brightly for a moment before fading away.

Gabriel let go of Higgs, standing and backing away. The wound on his hand healed up, but slowly, and the cut on Higgs' hand did likewise, the vampire blood mixing with his own and prompting the wound to heal up far quicker than it should, although it left behind a scar that Gabriel's hand didn't have. Higgs himself said nothing. He had shaken slightly as the magic went into effect and then stared at Gabriel as if seeing him for the first time, but now he dropped his gaze, subdued, submissive.

"I'm sorry, Master."

Gabriel and Lorna exchanged glances then looked back at him.

"For what?"

"For attacking your son. I have no excuse for my actions, but I beg your forgiveness."

Gabriel nodded to Lorna, who took a key from her pocket and undid the chains around Higgs' wrists. He let them fall to his lap and rubbed at them, but made no move to stand and didn't look up.

"Thank you, Master," he murmured.

"Stand up."

Higgs did so, head still bowed.

"Look at me."

He did. Gabriel grabbed him by the chin and lifted his lips, inspecting his teeth. Higgs didn't struggle.

"Are you hungry?" Gabriel asked, satisfied that Higgs' teeth were no different than the average human.

"A little."

"For what? If you could have anything to eat right now, anything at all, what would you have?"

Higgs considered it for a moment, then answered, "Strawberry cheesecake."

"Decidedly human," Lorna murmured, and Gabriel nodded then ordered Higgs' to follow him and turned on his heel, leaving the room. Higgs dogged his footsteps like a loyal hound and Lorna trailed after them both, keeping an eye on the human as Gabriel led him up through the east wing to the smallest bedroom.

"This is where you'll be staying while you're with us," Gabriel told Higgs. "You will stay for a while—a month at least; no more than two. You are free to roam the east wing but you will not enter the rest of the house, pass through any door marked with an X, or leave the house under any circumstances. If any vampire with brown hair attempts to feed from you, you will let them. If any vampire with blonde hair attempts to feed from you, you will fight them. If any vampire with red hair attempts to feed from you, you will scratch your armpits and say loudly, 'I am a monkey'."

Lorna snorted and Gabriel's lips twitched but he didn't take his gaze from Higgs, who scowled but made no objection.

"If any other vampire attempts to feed from you, you may submit or fight them as you please. You will be polite to everyone you meet, you will not touch or take any wand you find, and you will obey any command that my wife, Lady Lorna, gives you, even if it contradicts something I have ordered you to do, though if it does you will inform her of the order I have given. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, Master."

Gabriel smiled. "There is pen and paper on that table. Write a letter to your parents saying you have been invited on a sudden trip to Europe that you could not pass up due to the opportunities it presented for a young man in your position. Have it ready to post by dawn."

"Yes, Master."

They left him to it and headed back down to the nest area. As Gabriel had asked earlier, the vampires had already stuck up bits of paper on the rooms he didn't want Higgs' going in—the bedrooms of themselves, Lorna's workshop, the main house, and a few other rooms.

"'I am a monkey'?" Lorna said, amused, slipping an arm through Gabriel's as they headed down. Gabriel smiled.

"I need to see how much he obeys. We'll see how he reacts when they attack him."

"It seems to be working well so far."

"There may be delayed effects, but we'll see how it goes. I am hopeful."

"If nothing else, it should at least be amusing to see his reaction to the redheads trying to feed on him."

* * *

"Why?"

Sat in one of the school seats transfigured to a high-backed armchair, Lucius drummed his fingers against the arm and scowled. "Why what?"

Harry, mostly sure his stomach had finished revolting, got up, vanished the vomit in the bin, and sank into one of the other chairs. "Why would someone make a Horcrux? Why split your soul?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You know how they're made but you don't know _why_?"

Harry just shook his head. His knowledge of spells only covered _how_ , not _why_ , and although he'd always known about the Horcrux creation, in the back of his mind, it wasn't one that he'd ever given much thought to or sought to investigate further.

"Longevity. If the body is destroyed," Lucius explained further when Harry frowned, confused, "having a part of the soul separate will ensure the main soul cannot move on. It cannot die."

"Oh." Harry considered that, frowned, asked: "But that doesn't make sense. If he—" he didn't need to specify who he meant; they both knew "—made me a Horcrux in order to keep himself alive, then why try to kill me? That would destroy everything he just did."

Lucius watched Harry as he mulled it over. Harry stared at his hands, remembering the blackness that covered them a little while ago, a fresh wave of nausea twisting his gut as he thought about how Horcruxes were made. His mother had died for it, he was sure of that. It took cold-blooded murder to split the soul in two and Harry knew that Lily's death must have been the one Voldemort used to break his soul for the Horcrux.

"He did not seek to kill you," Lucius said eventually, prompting Harry to look up. "Horcruxes are extraordinarily powerful objects. He was testing you. I imagine he didn't expect the curse to backfire on himself."

That surprised Harry. "Wait, so... so as long as I'm a Horcrux... I'm immortal?"

"I don't know about immortal, but certainly near invincible."

All of a sudden, this horrific discovery took on a silver lining. _Near invincible_...

"What _can_ destroy a Horcrux?"

"Fiendfyre. Basilisk venom. A few other extremely destructive substances. Nothing that's easy for someone to get their hands on."

"And Fiendfyre is tough to conjure," Harry murmured, more to himself than Lucius. It just might work. It all depended on whether hellhounds were as destructive as basilisk venom. They were hell beasts, so it was possible, but in essence they were also just dogs, so maybe they wouldn't be able to overcome the strength of the Horcrux. Of course, there was still the matter of them relentlessly hunting him down, and living with a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him forever... which also meant Voldemort would live forever...

Maybe it wasn't worth it.

He frowned then. "Hang on, was the diary a Horcrux too? Is that how his teenage form was able to come out of it?"

Whatever pain Lucius felt at this reference to his son's death, he didn't show it. "Yes. As such, in order to kill the Dark Lord for good, he would have to be killed too."

Harry started. "Kill... _you_ want to kill the Dark Lord?"

"He murdered my son."

"Oh," Harry muttered. "Right." He cleared his throat. "But, uh... well, do you know where he is? The proper Dark Lord, I mean."

"There are rumours."

"Right. Only... I mean, if you were to kill him... you'd, um... you'd have to destroy me."

Lucius didn't bash an eyelid. "Yes."

Harry drew his wand. Lucius' lips twitched.

"I am not going to kill you, Potter-Valentine. I am not even going to kill the Dark Lord."

"But you just said—"

"I said I want him dead. Only you can kill him, however."

" _Me?_ " Harry said, voice rising an octave. He certainly wanted Voldemort dead, in all his incarnations, but he wasn't sure if he could actually kill him. It wasn't like Vernon; that had been an accident. But actually, actively, intentionally killing someone... he didn't know if he could do that.

Then again, why shouldn't he? Voldemort had tried to kill him. Or tested him, if Lucius was to be believed, but that still involved attacking him with the Killing Curse. Then Tom Riddle tried to burn him alive. Harry was perfectly justified in killing him, and why should he balk at the thought? Had his parents not taught him that death was a perfectly justified punishment for humans? Killing Voldemort would not be murder, not the cold-blooded killing that Voldemort himself engaged in to create his Horcruxes or wipe out those he considered beneath him, but the execution of a vile criminal. Harry did not feel guilt over Vernon Dursley anymore; he would not feel reluctance at the thought of executing Voldemort.

But he still wondered about Lucius' words. "What d'you mean _only_ I can kill him?"

"Don't you _know_?"

"Know what?"

"About the prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

"The prophecy that says you are destined to defeat the Dark Lord."

"The... I... _what?_ "

"I do not know the full details," Lucius went on, unperturbed by Harry's gaping shock, "but before your birth a prophecy was made of a child that would defeat the Dark Lord. _You_ were that child."

Harry had to take a minute to absorb that. Whilst it sank in, he asked Lucius, "Why are you telling me this? Why are you discussing all this with me?"

"I told you, I want the Dark Lord dead. As the prophesied child, I have no choice but to involve you."

"And you really think that I can defeat him? A kid."

"Why not? You have done so once before."

"You said that was his fault, because of the Horcrux."

Lucius made an impatient noise and a sharp, dismissive gesture with his hand. "A meagre technicality. You were still crucial in his downfall. The prophecy still stands. You must kill him."

"I think I want to know what this prophecy says."

"Ask Dumbledore. He knows its full contents."

"He'll wonder how I know. I'm sure you don't want me telling him you told me."

"No," Lucius murmured, looking at Harry calculatingly. "The only other way to learn it is from the Hall of Prophecies."

"Where's that?"

"In the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries."

"Oh. Nowhere hard to get to, then?" Harry said dryly. "Just stroll in and help myself, I suppose."

Lucius opened his mouth, perhaps to sneer something about not being so sarcastic, then paused thoughtfully. "Actually," he said, "you might."

"Oh _come on!_ There's no way."

"The prophecy is about you," Lucius pointed out. "It is possible you can make an official request to hear it. I can look into it. I have... friends... in the Ministry."

"This is insane," Harry muttered, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "Six hours ago all I was worried about was my detention. Now there's a prophecy about me and I'm carrying around a bit of the Dark Lord's soul. Why can't I be normal like everyone else?"

Lucius snorted softly. "If you wanted that, you should not have been adopted by vampires and so heavily tutored in wand magic."

"Yeah, 'spose." He sighed. "Am I excused, sir? I'd like to go to bed."

Lucius nodded and Harry stood and left, his feet taking him down to Slytherin of their own accord while his head whirred with everything he'd learnt. He would go to bed, but he didn't think he'd sleep, not while his head was so busy, but he wanted to just lie in the comfortable quiet and mull it over.

* * *

Despite everything, Harry slept surprisingly well that night. He found himself oddly unconcerned about lugging around a piece of Voldemort's soul. Vaguely unclean, like there was some foreign substance in his blood, but it didn't seem to have done him any harm in twelve years, so why should it now? His biggest problem was how to get rid of it without destroying himself, so that he could kill Voldemort, but he thought maybe the prophecy would have some clue about that and decided he wouldn't worry about it until then. It wasn't like he and Lucius had made plans to kill Voldemort immediately, and surely nothing could be done about it until the end of the school year when Lucius was free from teaching, anyway.

So he pushed it all to the back of his mind and focused on school. Quidditch practice began the day after his aborted detention and Flint worked the team hard, determined to make up for the loss against Gryffindor, especially when Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw in their match at the end of January. There was a Hogsmeade weekend the next Saturday, two days before Valentine's Day, but Harry couldn't go. Flint was so intent on Quidditch that he made the entire team stay behind and practice, much to their annoyance. Even so, the practice went well and Flint was happy and confident by the end of the day.

The same could not be said about Tracey Davis. Theo, still intent on 'paying her back' for the Christmas present, went to Hogsmeade with her. Harry saw them walking off after breakfast, holding hands and Tracey flushed with happiness. But at dinner—which Harry ate vigorously as Flint had made them practise all through lunch—Tracey was very pointedly ignoring Theo, whilst Pansy and Daphne were shooting him extremely foul looks and Millicent cracked her knuckles. Theo ignored them.

"So how was your date?" Harry asked him.

"Perfectly terrible," Theo answered smugly. "I was just the right amount of rude to make her lose interest in me, without being horrible enough to make her completely hate me and seek revenge later on."

"I'm not sure the other girls agree."

Theo barely glanced at them. "I'm not worried. They'll probably just tell all the other girls in school that I'm a rotten scoundrel and not worth asking out, which suits me fine."

"You don't want a girlfriend?"

"Not in the least."

He wanted to ask Theo more about that, interested in the only other person who didn't seem to care about romance, but Theo abruptly turned the conversation to Quidditch and didn't give Harry chance to return to the topic of girlfriends. He didn't know how to bring it up again until Tori asked him a few days later in Herbology, "Is it true that Nott is gay?"

Harry looked up from his puffapod in surprise. "Gay? No. I don't think so, anyway. He might be, I guess," he said, wondering if that was what Theo had meant by not wanting a girlfriend. "We've never talked about it."

"I just wondered because everyone's saying he is."

Curious, Harry mentioned it to Theo that evening whilst they worked on a Potions essay in the Slytherin common room. Theo rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm not gay. Tracey's just been saying that because of our date."

"Oh. So... you're not interested in boys _or_ girls?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? I'm just _not_ , I don't need a reason for it," he snapped.

"I didn't mean..." Harry began, but Theo was already rolling up his parchment and stalking away, and Harry scowled at his back as the other boy disappeared into the dorms. He didn't see why Theo made such a fuss about it.

Slytherin played Hufflepuff at Quidditch at the end of February and beat them by a 150 point margin. It was enough that they still had a chance at the Quidditch cup, as long as they beat Ravenclaw by two hundred points and Gryffindor didn't beat Hufflepuff in their match by more than a hundred points. It would be close; the Gryffindor team was extremely good this year.

A few days later, Harry was forced to think about what he'd learnt with Lucius when a note arrived at breakfast, delivered by one of the school owls. He didn't recognise the handwriting and there was no salutation prefacing the short missive.

 _Send a formal request to Marcus Fleetwood to make arrangements to see the object we talked about. An escort may be required due to your age; consider myself at your disposal.  
LM_

Harry glanced up at the staff table, but Lucius was deep in conversation with Gareth. _A formal request_... presumably that just meant a properly worded letter. He was annoyed but unsurprised about the mention of needing an escort, but he was surprised by Lucius' offer. Grateful, too, because he wasn't willing to mention the prophecy to his parents or Gareth. They would want to know how he knew about it, then they'd ask questions about what he'd been doing with Lucius to find out about it, and they might discover the dark magic issue. Not to mention they'd probably ask how Lucius knew about the prophecy.

Harry frowned. How _did_ Lucius know about the prophecy? He probably should have wondered that before.

He pocketed the letter and finished his breakfast, spooning cereal into his mouth automatically as his mind thought about the prophecy and the Horcrux inside of him. That was the real thing he wanted to keep from his parents. He dreaded to think how they would react to his being host to a part of Voldemort's soul. _He_ didn't even like it. He'd convinced himself it wasn't doing him any harm—if it was, he'd have expected to notice it at some point in the last twelve years—but that didn't mean he was happy about sharing his body with a piece of the cruel murderer who'd killed his parents.

As for the prophecy, it may not be as bad as the Horcrux, but until he knew what it actually said he saw no reason to mention it to anyone. He'd write to this Marcus Fleetwood, see the prophecy, and then decide if he would tell his parents about it.

The Ministry being essentially political, Harry expected them to take a while to get back to him about his request, but barely a week after sending off his letter he had a response with an appointment for Harry to come into the Ministry on the tenth of April, the last day of the Spring holiday and also a day when there was another Hogsmeade visit. (The students who were going home would return on the ninth, so they wouldn't miss out.) The letter made no mention of his needing an adult escort, but it occurred to Harry that he would need some way to get to London if he went alone.

He sent an agreement back immediately and then set his mind to the problem of getting away if he didn't ask Lucius along, which he preferred not to. The Hogsmeade visit worked in his favour; with students coming and going from the castle, it'd be easier for him to slip away unnoticed, but how? He knew the Three Broomsticks had a fireplace that visitors were allowed to use, but could he get through it unnoticed by the other students? Would Madam Rosmerta even sell him the pinch of floo powder to use it, and keep it secret if she did, or would she refuse knowing that students weren't meant to leave the village?

The school fireplaces were no good; the common room ones were set up for Floo calls, but only the fireplaces in the staff offices and private rooms could be used for actually moving through. That besides, he'd never actually used the Floo except for the urgent call to Dumbledore as a child, as Lynott Manor wasn't set up for Floo travel, and since the attack by Riddle he was extremely reluctant to. Logically he knew it was safe, but he still felt twitchy about the thought of stepping into flames.

He knew how to make a portkey, but the Ministry had ways of detecting illegal portkeys and given that that's where he was going, it didn't seem a good idea to do something illegal in the process. Flying was out of the question—it would take far too long—which left him one other possibility: Apparition.

Given that he'd never Apparated before, Floo seemed the much safer option, but once the idea was inside his head, he was quite taken with it. Besides, it was about time he learnt, he decided. He was nearly fourteen, the youngest person to have a NEWT, and he saw no reason not to learn how to Apparate too. It wasn't like he didn't know the premise; Apparition was basically a wandless spell and only a fear of splinching kept him from trying it alone. There was the matter of not being allowed to take the test until turning seventeen, but given his background they might make an exception. It was also something he had no qualms about going to Gareth about.

"I don't know if they'd let you take the test," Gareth said when Harry caught him after lunch the same day the offer from Mr Fleetwood came, "but there isn't actually any law about how old you have to be to _learn_ to Apparate. Unlike driving a Muggle car, you're allowed to start Apparition lessons early. People usually don't because they're not expected to be capable."

"I know how it's meant to be done," Harry said, walking alongside him as they headed down to the dungeons, "and I'm pretty sure I can do it. I'm just a bit worried about splinching myself."

"Good thing to worry about. Give me a couple of days to talk to the headmaster and a friend of mine at the Ministry, then I'll get back to you about it, alright?"

Harry grinned. "Thanks!"

A couple of weeks before the spring holiday, Harry got an unexpected letter from home. His parents never wrote to him or Tori in English, so that they didn't get out of practice while he was at Hogwarts, which was why Tori spoke to him in Italian when she dropped down beside him just after he finished reading.

«Is that from Mum and Dad? Did they tell you to stay here for the holiday, too?»

Harry nodded, frowning at the letter. «Said they have important nest matters to deal with. What does that mean?»

«I don't know.» She looked at her own letter again, worrying at her lip. «Do you think it's something to do with Aurelia?»

«Maybe. I hope everything's okay.»

«They'd tell us if anything really bad happened, wouldn't they?»

Harry nodded, but he was worried.

Across the table, Daphne Greengrass blurted out, "Is that Spanish you're speaking?"

"Italian," Tori corrected her.

"Ooh, even better. I didn't know you could speak Italian, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Didn't seem worth mentioning."

"Definitely worth mentioning," Daphne said, putting her chin in her hand and staring at him in a way that made him nervous. "Don't suppose you can speak any other foreign languages?"

"French and Greek, and I can read and write Latin. It's no big deal. Our parents have holidays homes in France, Greece, and Italy so they made us learn them."

Daphne looked utterly delighted. "It's _fascinating_. Say something in French."

"Um... _Que veux tu que je dise?_ "

"What does that mean?"

«Don't tell her,» Tori muttered, grinning slightly. «She fancies you now. She wants to hear something nice, not boring.»

Harry looked at her, startled, then at Daphne, who still stared at him with her chin in hand.

«She fancies me because I speak French?»

«She probably thinks it sexy,» Tori told him, then laughed aloud at his expression. Daphne's admiring look faltered slightly, eyes narrowing as Tori returned to the Ravenclaw table.

"What did she say?"

"Uh... nothing important," Harry mumbled. "She's teasing me. Sisters, y'know?"

Daphne's concern eased and she nodded. "Yeah, mine's just as bad," she said, jerking her head towards where her little sister Astoria sat with the other first years. "Sometimes I just want to feed her to a manticore. So are you fluent in French and Italian?"

"Near enough, but my Greek isn't so good."

"Greek isn't as nice anyway. And you really have _three_ holiday homes?"

He nodded. "We go to a different one each summer. The one in Italy's my favourite though. It's on a hill just outside of Naples and we can see the whole city from the front of the house."

"Sounds amazing. I never knew you were so... exotic."

"Er... thanks?" Harry said. Exotic? Just because he visited Italy on a semi-regular basis?

He was grateful that the bell rang then, giving him an excuse to leave the table and hurry off to Divination. They'd moved on from tea leaves to palmistry at the beginning of the term and Trelawney delighted in informing Harry he had the shortest life line she'd ever seen (he and Anita compared hands afterwards; they were pretty sure their life lines were exactly the same), but even that was better than Daphne's strange new interest in him. His impending death was only half as unnerving to him as the idea that someone fancied him.

They started on crystal balls that day. Harry stared into his, not sure what he was meant to be seeing in the foggy crystal. Hermione, who'd missed the Gryffindor Charms class that morning and never made any secret about how much she disliked Divination, was muttering about what a waste of time the class was when she could be practising her Cheering Charms. Anita, who had a little more faith in Divination based mostly on Trelawney's predictions of Harry's death, was frowning heavily at her crystal ball, brow furrowed with concentration despite the fact they were meant to be emptying their minds.

Trelawney came around to help them 'interpret the shadowy portents' and Harry was not the least bit surprised when she came to his table and said she saw the shark again. He found it annoying more than anything, but to his surprise it made Hermione lose her temper.

"Not that ridiculous shark _again_!" she half-yelled. "We're twenty miles from the ocean and there aren't any sharks in Scottish waters anyway. He should be more concerned about the Giant Squid!"

Trelawney turned angry eyes on her, losing the usual soft tones to retort sharply that it was clear, and always had been, that Hermione wasn't suited to Divination at all, which prompted the girl to snatch up her bag and storm out declaring, "I quit!"

Parvati was the one to remember Trelawney's first lesson prediction that one of the class would leave them around this time, and she and Lavender looked deeply impressed, moving over so Trelawney could join their table instead. Harry turned his attention back to his own crystal ball, frowning at it.

"D'you really think you need to worry about sharks?" Anita asked Harry in a whisper.

"Not literal ones," he murmured back, but he couldn't help thinking that the shark was a rather apt metaphor for Crowley.

But Trelawney's incessant death predictions were a constant reminder of what was coming for him. When the first few books from Knockturn Alley proved unhelpful, he sent off for more, ordering obscure tomes and personal journals referenced in the first few books, spending a substantial amount of his pocket money on them. Only one provided anything remotely useful: the journal of a seventeenth century wizard named Oliver Reid who sold his soul for a range of gold mines that made him a very rich man. He theorised that destroying the physical contract of the deal would render it null and void and he sought to do so, but the journal ended abruptly and when Harry looked him up in historical records, he found that Oliver had died in his own mine when a tunnel collapsed, eight and a half years after he made his deal.

It was an interesting idea, but he didn't know if it would work. For one thing, he wasn't sure there even _was_ a physical contract. It wasn't like he'd signed anything in blood. Still, it might be worth looking into so he started going over his books again with a different focus.

Not that he had a whole lot of time to study up on demons. The teachers set them a lot of homework in the spring holiday, for which a lot more people remained at Hogwarts than the winter holiday, and their exams were approaching. They might not have been official exams like the OWLs, but they were still enough to stress people out and Harry wanted to do better on them this year than he had the year before.

* * *

"Destination, Determination, Deliberation! Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired _destination_."

Harry focused, standing in one corner of an empty classroom which was temporarily free of the anti-Apparition spells on the school, his mind fixed firmly on a spot at the opposite side of the room. It was the twenty-ninth of March and Harry had been surprised that morning at breakfast when Gareth said not only could he officially learn to Apparate, but that an Approved Apparition Instructor was available to start teaching him that very afternoon. Wilkie Twycross seemed sceptical about Harry's abilities and Harry got the impression he felt he had better things to do than try teaching a thirteen year old advanced magic.

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your _determination_ to occupy the visualised space. Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body. Step three, and only when I give the command... turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_! On my command, now... one—two—three!"

Harry turned smartly on the spot, his mind fixed firmly on the opposite corner, and there was a sensation like being squeezed through a rubber tube, a moment of darkness, and then he found himself on the other side of the room. He stumbled a bit then straightened, checking that he had all his body parts before looking up with a grin. Gareth, who sat on a desk overseeing the lesson, grinned back. Twycross looked stunned. He blinked at Harry, turned to look at the spot where he'd been a moment before as though checking for stray parts of him, then looked back.

"Well," he said, obviously stunned. "Very good, Mr Potter-Valentine. And again, please."

Harry did so, reappearing back in the first corner. Twycross let out a surprised laugh this time.

"Well, well, well, I must say! I've never seen anyone pick it up so quickly! Not a thing left behind—eyebrows intact, nails...?" Harry showed his hands, all eight fingers and two thumbs still with their nails. "Yes, all there! Outstanding, truly outstanding! But now... well..." He turned to Gareth with a faintly hopeful look. "Professor Martin, do you think the headmaster would agree to let Mr Potter-Valentine out to Hogsmeade for half an hour? There's really nothing more I can teach him here, but it's distance that's the true test."

"Yeah, I reckon so. Give us a minute, I'll just go ask him."

He hurried off. They were on the sixth floor, so he wasn't gone long and soon came back with a grin. "We're allowed. I have to come with you."

"Of course, of course. Shall we?"

Harry, still grinning slightly at his success, accompanied them out of the castle. They passed more than a few students on the way and he heard them muttering, wondering who Twycross was and what Harry was doing with him and Gareth. They walked down to the village, where Twycross lead them through to the far end, past Dervish and Bangs where there were a few cottages coming off from the path leading to the base of the mountain overlooking the village.

"There we go, nice clear spot," Twycross said. "Now, you see that far end of the path, Mr Potter-Valentine? That's your destination, so when you're ready..."

Harry focused, fixed his destination in mind, and spun. He vanished, reappeared, did a little jig of delight, and went back. Twycross couldn't hide how impressed he was.

"Amazing, quite amazing indeed! I really have never seen anyone pick it up even half as quickly, and so young, too! I suppose—well, it is _you_ ," he said, eyes flicking to the lightning bolt scar, but then he noticed Harry's poorly concealed scowl—it was quite annoying when people looked at his scar like that—and he hurriedly went on, "Anyway, there's no reason you shouldn't take the test, despite your age. I wonder if it might be possible to get an exception made—"

"Already done," Gareth said, surprising Twycross and Harry. "The test is booked for Friday."

"Fri- already?" Twycross goggled, and Harry was just as surprised. Gareth looked pleased with himself.

"I appealed to the Minister of Magic himself when I looked into getting him lessons. I can be very persuasive when I want to be, and as soon as he gave his permission I went to the testing office. I had every faith that Harry would master Apparition today."

Harry beamed at him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Look what I got, look what I got!"

Harry dropped down onto the Ravenclaw bench and thrust the bit of paper in Tori's face. She took it from him, lowering it so she could read properly, and smiled broadly.

 _APPARITION TEST_  
 _PASS CERTIFICATE_

"You did it! That's great, Harry, Mum and Dad'll be really pleased. I'm completely jealous though."

"Don't worry, I'll Apparate you places if you want."

She stuck her tongue out and nudged him, but handed the certificate back and reached down the table for a dish of treacle tart that she plonked in front of him.

"There you go, have that to reward yourself."

No one had yet taken a piece from it and there were a few others along the table, so Harry picked up a fork and dug straight in, not bothering to dish it onto a plate. It'd probably make him sick to eat it all, but he was too pleased to care.

Two days later it was the last day of the holiday, the day of the Hogsmeade visit, and the day Harry was to learn about the prophecy. In the morning, he joined the rest of the students in leaving the castle, but he underestimated the difficulty he'd have in getting away from everyone else. Or rather, from Daphne. Tori's prediction was correct—Daphne had developed a crush on him since discovering his multi-linguistic abilities and didn't seem to get the message that Harry didn't fancy her back. He didn't want to be outright rude to her, which was Theo's suggestion, but when she latched onto his arm as he walked down to Hogsmeade he thought maybe he would have to be.

"You don't mind me joining you, do you, Harry?" she said, smiling sweetly at him.

"Er, actually, I—"

"Because I've been thinking," she went on without listening, "that it's time I did something with you."

The way she said it made him look at her in alarm.

"You're completely oblivious as to what I want, but it's alright and to be honest, I've never seen why girls have to wait for boys to make the first move anyway. I'm a modern girl, so I'm taking the first step and asking you to go on a date with me."

Harry felt more worried now than he had when Gabriel and Lorna first asked him to join their family. "D-date?"

"Yes." She was still smiling at him. He stopped and she tried to keep moving, dragging him on, but he tugged himself free of her grip.

"Look, um, Daphne, you're nice and I like you—"

"Great, so lets go!"

"No!"

She blinked and her smile finally drooped. "No?"

"I like you as a friend, but I don't… I don't fancy you."

"Don't fancy me?" she repeated with a frown. "What do you mean you don't fancy me?"

"Erm… just that. I don't… I don't want to go on a date with you or anything. I don't want to be your boyfriend."

She seemed stunned by this. "Not want to be my boyfriend? That's ridiculous, _everyone_ wants to be my boyfriend. I'm the prettiest girl in our whole year! Are you saying I'm ugly?"

"No, of course not, you're very pretty, but—"

"But what?" she snapped. "I'm pretty and you said you like me, so why wouldn't you want to be my boyfriend?"

"Because I don't _like_ like you. I don't want to be _anyone's_ boyfriend, it's nothing personal."

Daphne, who'd been puffing up like a blowfish, preparing to yell bloody murder at him, suddenly relaxed and smiled again. " _Oh_ ," she said. "Why didn't you just say you were gay, Harry?"

"What? I'm not—"

"Really, no one _cares_. I'm not like those Muggles Tracey told me about who think being gay is weird or something. You must know the wizarding world doesn't care about things like that."

"Yes, I know, I—"

"Of course, I can't say I'm not disappointed," she said, taking his arm and tugging him down the path again, "but it's alright. We can go shopping together and you can tell me which of the boys you fancy."

"Actually, Daphne, I'm feeling ill," he said. They were nearly at the village by then. "I think I'm going to go back up to the castle and lie down."

"What? But… oh, alright," she said grumpily. "I'm not walking back with you though, we're practically there now."

"That's okay. Also, er… could you not tell anyone I'm gay, please? I don't want people knowing just yet."

He figured it was probably easier to let her carry on thinking that than getting in another squabble about not fancying her. Thankfully, she grinned slyly and nodded.

"Sure thing, Harry. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, bye."

He turned and walked back up the path, slowly, glancing back to see that she was carrying on. When he saw she was, he darted off the path and into the trees lining it. He moved deeper in until he couldn't be seen from the path, then took a deep breath, focused on his destination, and Disapparated.

He'd looked up the location of the Ministry of Magic, finding an information booklet in the library with the address and how to access it via the visitor's entrance. He was a bit concerned about Apparating so far, but he arrived on the street in London with all his body parts and it took only a quick look around to find a street sign confirming he was in the right place. Still a bit nervous about entering there on his own, he slipped into the telephone box, dialled 62442, and looked about as a recorded female voice said, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

He cleared his throat and spoke into the phone. "Harry Potter-Valentine. I'm here to see Marcus Fleetwood."

He paused, wondering if it needed more information, but the voice thanked him and told him to take the badge that dropped into the phone's coin slot, then told him to present his wand at the security desk and wished him a good day before the floor began lowering into the ground. He took the badge and pinned it to his jumper as he descended. It read _Harry Potter-Valentine, Dept. Mysteries Guest_.

Down in the atrium, he walked slowly past a number of fireplaces, patting his hair down over his lightning bolt scar and hoping none of the other people in the atrium had kids at Hogwarts who'd told them about the rest of his scars. It wasn't early enough for him to get caught in the rush of workers turning up for the day, but there was still plenty of figures moving through the atrium, some of them bearing badges just like his.

He followed several of them down to the security desk before the lifts and watched curiously as they were scanned by the guard and then asked to hand over their wands. His curiosity turned to horror when the guard put the wands on a scale that spat out a bit of paper which told him what it was made of and how long it'd been in use. Harry couldn't let his wand be put on that; what would happen when they discovered his wand was made of human bone?

He didn't seem to have any other choice. He considered slipping away and going to the lifts without presenting himself to the guard, but even as he considered it the group before him, who were there to apply for building licenses, moved past the desk towards the lifts. Most of them passed through without trouble, but one of them to hit an invisible barrier and rebound off, a loud, beeping alarm sounding that made everyone turn to look.

A second guard, who until then stood by the entrance to the lifts looking very bored, hurried forward and went to the man, her own wand in hand and aimed at him.

"Hands up!"

"B-but that fellow checked me!" the man cried, raising his hands. "I was fine!"

The guard ignored him, briskly patting him down by hand and then drawing two wands from his pocket.

"An unregistered wand? That's a matter for the DMLE. Please come this way, sir."

"It's not that serious, surely?" he said with a weak laugh.

"You tried to enter the Ministry without presenting all your wands," the guard said unapologetically. "This way, please."

She dragged him off.

"Are you coming or not?" said the desk guard, making Harry jump. "I haven't got all day, y'know."

Licking his lips, Harry stepped up, let himself be scanned with the Secrecy Sensor, then very reluctantly removed his wand from its strap and handed it over. He held his breath as the guard put it on the set of scales and took the bit of paper. He frowned, lifted Harry's wand and put it down again, then took the new bit of paper and frowned deeper.

"Bloody thing must be broken," he muttered. He turned away, rummaged in a cabinet behind him, and produced another scale. He moved Harry's wand to it and took the piece of paper. "What the bleedin' heck…" He glanced up at Harry, still frowning. "Humour me a minute, will you? Your wand ain't made of human bone with a core of hellhound hair, is it?"

He said it with a slight depreciating tone, like he knew it was ridiculous and just wanted to share the joke, but Harry couldn't even pretend to be amused because he was too stunned. He knew the core of his wand had to be something unusual and dark, but he hadn't thought it would be that. Should he even be using such a wand? It was practically demonic.

Something must have shown on his face because the guard's faintly amused look slipped away. "Merlin's beard!" he breathed, and quickly shoved the wand back into Harry's hands, wiping his own on his robes. "That's foul that is, young man. Don't think it's illegal as such, but completely horrible. Get on with you. Go!"

Not about to risk the guard changing his mind and hauling him off to join the other arrested wizard, Harry hurried through the gates, heading for a lift that was just closing, but someone stepped in front of him before he could reach it, forcing him to stop abruptly or walk into them. It was an elderly man with a walking stick, his hardened face suggesting someone who wasn't to be trifled with, but he smiled warmly at Harry.

"Harry Potter-Valentine? I'm Marcus Fleetwood."

"Oh! Hi." He shook the hand that Marcus held out. "Nice to meet you."

"And you. You're alone?"

Harry nodded. "The letter you sent me didn't say I needed an adult with me."

"You don't, I just thought you would bring one anyway. Shall we?"

He gestured to a lift that'd just arrived and they entered it with a handful of other people. Marcus walked with a limp, his stick clearly not just for decoration.

The Department of Mysteries was on the ninth floor and they were the last to be let off, the lift opening to a long corridor. Marcus led Harry down a turn to a plain door at the end, opening it and gesturing Harry in ahead of him to a circular black room lit by blue torches.

"Brace yourself," Marcus warned, then shut the door. Immediately the walls spun about them, the torches no more than a blurred blue line, and then it stopped, leaving Harry to wonder how on earth they were supposed to know which of the dozen identical doors they were meant to leave by. But Marcus just said clearly, "Hall of Prophecies," and one of the doors opened itself.

"This way, Mr Potter-Valentine."

They went through. Harry couldn't help gasping at the cathedral-sized room, filled with towering shelves that were stacked with white orbs that glittered softly in the torchlight.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Marcus said.

"Are these all prophecies?"

"Yes."

"Wow…"

Marcus limped down past the shelves, glancing occasionally at the numbers on the end of each one, and eventually turned down when they reached number ninety-seven. He walked slowly down it, inspecting the orbs on the shelf and the labels beneath them, before eventually stopping about a third of the way down and tapping one of the labels with his finger.

"There you are."

Harry looked. Written in spidery handwriting was the date December 1979, and beneath that:

 _S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._  
 _Dark Lord_  
 _and (?) Harry Potter_

"Um… how do I…?" He wasn't sure how the prophecies worked.

"Pick it up," Marcus said, "then I'll take you to the listening room."

Cautiously, Harry reached up and picked up the orb. It was surprisingly warm in his grip.

"Don't drop it," Marcus warned. "Hell of a fine to pay if you do."

Harry nodded and held it in both hands as he followed Marcus back to the door, idly wiping away the dust covering it. He thought they went back the same way they came, but he must have been wrong because instead of opening into the circular room, the door took them into a small room with a pedestal at the centre. It was about as high as Harry's navel, made of solid white wood, and had a dip in the top that was exactly the right size for the orb to be placed in.

"Just place the prophecy into the speaker," Marcus said, gesturing to the pedestal, "and it'll speak it aloud. I'll be just outside the door."

Harry nodded and waited for him to back out and shut the door before he approached the pedestal. He hesitated to put the orb in it. What if the prophecy said something terrible? Lucius said it predicted his defeat of Voldemort, but there had to be more to it than that. They hadn't studied prophecies in Divination yet, but he'd looked through his textbook back in the summer and remembered seeing something about prophecies being complicated and easily misinterpreted.

But he was too curious not to know, so he took a deep breath and placed the orb on the pedestal. Instantly it lit up with a soft white glow and a woman's husky voice spoke from within.

 _"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

He picked it up again as it started to repeat itself, silence descending on the room although the words continued to play inside his head.

 _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…_

—that must mean his lightning bolt scar—

… _power the Dark Lord knows not…_

—that had to be his unmatched knowledge of spells, because he didn't have any other kind of power—

… _either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives…_

—and that… that seemed painfully, horribly clear.

And it said nothing about the Horcrux. But why would Voldemort try to kill him after making him a Horcrux? Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he realised that making the child of someone he killed into a Horcrux was a terrible idea because the child would forever hate him, as Harry did. Maybe Lucius was wrong about why Voldemort had cast the Killing Curse on him as a baby.

Or maybe Lucius was wrong about making him a Horcrux. There was no doubt Harry _was_ one, the detection spell had confirmed that, but, knowing how they were made, Harry thought it was just possible that Voldemort could have accidentally turned Harry into a Horcrux. It was far-fetched, but not quite impossible if Voldemort intended to make one that night and something went wrong… something like Harry surviving the Killing Curse.

But if it wasn't the Horcrux that made him immune to it, what did? Why had he survived that night if it wasn't because of the Horcrux?

He put the orb back in the pedestal, listening to it again. _Power the Dark Lord knows not._ Maybe it didn't refer to his knowledge of spells. He hadn't known them all back then, after all, but what other power did he have? It wasn't like he'd shown any great magical power as a young child. He hadn't even succeeded with the spells that Snape tried to teach him. Everything he could do had come after his demon deal.

Maybe his survival had nothing to do with him. The prophecy didn't specify when Harry would have this mysterious power. Maybe his survival had been a separate event. Maybe his parents had done something to protect him. There were no spells to counter or stop the Killing Curse, but maybe there was an obscure potion or some sort of ancient runic magic. Snape said Lily and James had both been extremely clever and Lily had studied experimental charms and magic; what if they'd discovered something that stopped the Killing Curse and never had chance to tell anyone about it before Voldemort killed them? If they had, it wasn't a spell or he would know about it.

He listened to the prophecy once more. The part about his power might be unclear, but the final part seemed very obvious. He didn't see how _either must die at the hands of the other_ could be interpreted in any way except that either he killed Voldemort or Voldemort killed him. The next bit was confusing, though. _Neither can live while the other survives…_ what did that mean? He was alive right now, but so was Voldemort, in essence even if not in body. Perhaps that was it, and if Voldemort ever came to full power again Harry would automatically die or something. It wasn't a pleasant thought. His death was coming early enough as it was.

But maybe that had something to do with the Horcrux. He wasn't sure how, but maybe it meant live in a metaphorical sense rather than literal. Voldemort had no real life to speak of in his current form, but if he gained a body and restarted his war against Muggles and Muggleborns then Harry's life as he knew it would forever change. What kind of life could he have in the middle of a war? He wouldn't be a teenager doing teenage things; he'd have to become a fighter, a soldier. Especially if he was the one expected to destroy Voldemort.

A noise beyond the room made him jump and he remembered Marcus was waiting outside. He listened to the prophecy one last time, to make sure he had it memorised to think over later, then opened the door. Marcus stood just to one side, waiting for him.

"Finished?"

Harry nodded. He said nothing as they returned the prophecy to its shelf and then left the Department of Mysteries and returned to the atrium. He shook Marcus' hand again, said a polite goodbye, and hurried past the security desk. He rode the phone box back up to the surface, checked the street was empty, and Apparated back to Hogsmeade. He planned to go back to the castle and get in bed to think about the prophecy, but as he headed towards the path back to the castle someone cleared their throat and he whipped around to find Gareth leant against a tree.

"Where you been, Harry?"

"Sorry?"

"Don't," Gareth said. His tone was notably lacking its usual cheerful lightness. "I saw you Apparate away and I saw you Apparate back. Where have you been?"

Harry's heart sunk. He thought he'd checked for anyone watching, but apparently not very well. "I'm sorry."

"Not an answer to my question, so let me put it another way: you can tell me where you've been and have a week of detention, or you can not tell me and have two weeks of detention."

Harry barely even thought about it. "Two weeks of detention."

Gareth nodded. "Fair enough, but know I'll be writing to your parents."

"Oh, no! Please, sir, don't do that!"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but there are rules in place about students leaving the village during the school year. Rules I clearly remember telling you about when you took the test on Friday. The teachers are responsible for your safety whilst you're a student and we cannot look after you if we don't know where you are. If something had happened to you while you were gone, we never would have known. We might never have found you."

"I can defend myself," Harry mumbled, but he was staring at his feet.

"That's besides the point," Gareth said sharply. "I am lenient enough to know when certain rules can be bent or broken, but others are in place for your safety and should be obeyed. Come with me, I'm walking you up to the castle, and you will not be permitted to visit Hogsmeade during the next trip. Be thankful I don't extend this banning to next year as well, but if you do something like this again I will. Leaving here today was stupid and dangerous."

Harry looked up, horrified, and saw that Gareth was serious about banning him. He scowled, but nodded stiffly. He said nothing as they headed up to the castle. Once there, Gareth told him to report to his office the following evening for his first detention and then dismissed him. Angry at being caught and punished, Harry stomped down to Slytherin, but once there his anger drained away as his thoughts turned back to the prophecy, and he let Samantha out of her terrarium before getting on his bed, tugging the curtains around him and staring up at the canopy as he tried to figure out what it all meant. He talked it over with Samantha, but although her language skills had improved vastly in the last three years, she still had limited interests and couldn't help him with this.

He got a furious letter from home the next morning, written in French and admonishing him for not only breaking school rules, but wandering off when he knew Aurelia was in the country and seeking to harm the whole family. He had to tell Flint he couldn't attend Quidditch practice for two weeks, which got him yelled at, and Trelawney's continued death predictions in Divination didn't help his already bad mood, especially not now he had the prophecy on his mind. He turned up at Gareth's office that evening still grumpy and unhappily got to work on writing lines— _I will obey the rules put down for my safety_ , five hundred times. It took him nearly three hours and his hand and wrist were aching by the end of it.

He wasn't doing lines the next night, but he wasn't sure helping Sinistra repair rusty and damaged telescopes was any better. After that it was polishing Trelawney's crystal balls, organising and re-shelving books in the library, un-transfiguring the botched transfigurations done by other students in McGonagall's classes, and various other tasks set by the teachers. On the last night, he was to clean the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom—desks, windows, walls, and floor, and all without magic.

For the first half an hour he scrubbed at the windows silently while Lucius marked homework at his desk. He could hear the man muttering insults about the students every so often, and eventually the idiocy of what he was reading apparently became too much because he sat back with an irritable sigh and threw down his quill to watch Harry instead.

"So," Lucius said after watching him silently for a few minutes, "what did it say?"

Harry paused to look over. "Sir?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Potter-Valentine. We both know why you left Hogsmeade two weeks ago."

"I don't think that's any of your business, sir," Harry said, moving to the desks now he was finished with the windows.

"I told you about it."

"I know that, but it's my prophecy. It's about me. How did you even know about it?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, Potter-Valentine."

Harry smiled thinly. "Suppose."

Lucius wasn't amused. "You can at least tell me any relevant details for destroying the Dark Lord," he said irritably. "Particularly with regards the…" he glanced towards the door, which was shut but not necessarily soundproof, and finished, "the dark magic issue."

Harry didn't answer immediately. He'd spent the past two weeks going over and over the prophecy in his mind, trying to figure out it and the issue with the Horcrux, but he couldn't work it out. No matter what angle he came at it from, he always came back to the same conclusion—he killed Voldemort or Voldemort killed him, but as long as he lived and had the Horcrux inside him then Voldemort could not truly die. He was convinced that Lucius was wrong about what happened the night of the Potters' death, that the Horcrux in Harry was an accident, not intentional, and he suspected that the Killing Curse _could_ kill him and destroy the Horcrux as well.

But a part of him, the part of him that hated Voldemort to his very core for trying to kill Harry and for killing his birth parents, felt that sacrificing himself so Voldemort could be defeated for good was an acceptable price to pay. He knew enough about the war to know that Voldemort was a monster that couldn't be allowed to rise to power again. He had to be destroyed for good, not only for Harry or Lucius' personal vengeance, but for the safety of the wizarding world at large. Harry's life, one death instead of thousands, seemed an acceptable price to pay. Especially as he was already destined to die young.

But he did not want to die any earlier than he was already meant to, and for now Voldemort was not a threat, so he told Lucius, "It can't happen until I'm seventeen."

" _What?_ "

Harry shrugged apologetically. "That's what it said. I won't be able to defeat him until I'm of age."

Lucius looked outraged. "I cannot wait four years to get my revenge!"

"You can kill Riddle," Harry pointed out. "He was the one that really killed Draco. The real Dark Lord doesn't even have a body right now, anyway. It's not like he can do anything to anyone."

"It's not enough!" Lucius yelled, standing and slamming his palms down on his desk. Harry paused in scrubbing a student desk, hand drifting to his wand. "I want him—"

The classroom door opened. They both looked over to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway. Lucius straightened up, taking a long deep breath to calm himself.

"Headmaster."

"Everything alright in here?" Dumbledore asked lightly.

"Yes, thank you."

Dumbledore looked at Harry, eyes flicking to where Harry's hand hovered by his wand. "Mr Potter-Valentine?"

"Everything's fine, sir. I think Professor Malfoy is just annoyed by his students' essays."

Dumbledore eyed them both for a moment longer then nodded. "Carry on then. Good day to you both."

He left, not quite shutting the door properly behind him. Harry looked at Lucius, who exhaled loudly and sat back down, picking up his quill and saying nothing more to Harry.

* * *

Lucius knew there was no way Voldemort had made Harry into a Horcrux intentionally. The Dark Lord had been far too intent on murdering the Potter child to ever make him the vessel of part of his soul, and he would have known that making a living being into a Horcrux was incredibly risky not only because living beings had free will and minds of their own, but because they were far easier to kill. Lucius didn't know what had happened in Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en 1981, but whatever it was it had been completely unexpected.

Lying to Harry about it was just common sense. Lucius had no idea how this thirteen year old knew about Horcruxes—not only knew about them, but how they were made. Clearly his adopted vampire parents were teaching him things no wizard taught their child, and he strongly doubted Dumbledore knew what his precious Boy Who Lived was learning about at home. No wonder the child had passed his NEWTs six years early.

Harry was lying to him in return, Lucius was sure. He sincerely doubted that the prophecy said anything about the saviour having to be of age before defeating Voldemort. More probably Harry was afraid to face Voldemort and unwilling to admit it. Lucius couldn't think badly of him for it; he knew Voldemort too well to disdain of anyone who feared him. The only reason Lucius didn't fear him, any more at least, was because he hated him too much.

But he was not willing to wait four years to kill Voldemort, or however long it took Harry to pluck up his courage. His hatred was consuming him, growing stronger with every day that passed in which he didn't kill the man responsible for his family's deaths, and he was too close now. He had, or knew the location of, all the Horcruxes. Harry was the sixth and final one, Lucius was sure of it; not the intended one, but the one made nevertheless. He would have to die just as much as Tom Riddle.

And Lucius knew he had to act soon. Being at Hogwarts, he was well placed to snatch Harry away. Once he quit teaching, in just two months time, he would never again have such an ideal opportunity to get at the boy. He was well protected at Hogwarts and Lucius wasn't fool enough to take on Gabriel Valentine's nest of vampires to snatch him from his home; he would die before ever laying a hand on Harry. Which meant he had to work fast. The Horcruxes had to be destroyed—which meant breaking Tom Riddle out of Azkaban—Voldemort had to be found and given human form again, and then killed for good.

As for the prophecy… these things were never clear. He knew it spoke of someone born at the end of July to parents who defied Voldemort three times. Lucius' own birthday fell on the thirtieth of July and he knew his father had refused Voldemort at least once. Abraxas Malfoy had agreed with the Dark Lord's ideals, but he refused to place himself in servitude to the man, and thought badly of Lucius for doing so; Malfoys, he'd said, were above placing themselves in servitude to _anyone_. And Lucius' mother had been at Hogwarts the same time as Tom Riddle, so perhaps she'd refused to help him with his homework a couple of times.

The hardest part of it all would be breaking Tom Riddle out of Azkaban. Finding Voldemort wouldn't be overly hard; rumours said he was in Albania somewhere and it was a smaller country than the UK. There were only so many places a dark spirit like Voldemort could be hiding. Harry would slow him down a bit; Lucius would need the boy to resurrect Voldemort into human form again, something that also required a sacrifice from himself. He wasn't sure yet what bit of flesh he would carve away to resurrect the Dark Lord, but any part would be worth it if it meant giving Lucius the chance to kill him. Once Voldemort was reborn, the Dark Lord would kill Harry and destroy the Horcrux in the process (a thought that amused Lucius in its irony) and then Lucius would kill Voldemort.

Then, finally, it would all be over.

* * *

Slytherin played Ravenclaw on the last day of April and beat them 290-60, which kept them in the running for the Quidditch Cup. They just had to hope that Gryffindor wouldn't beat Hufflepuff in three weeks time by more than a hundred points.

Harry was surprised to get a note at breakfast one morning in May asking him to come to Lucius' office. He went warily, knowing it would be about Voldemort and the Horcruxes again—they had no other reason to meet—but unsure exactly what Lucius wanted. The man was clearly very intent on killing Voldemort soon and Harry didn't know whether Lucius might try to force him into getting involved, or try to kill Harry to destroy the Horcrux.

He wasn't put at ease when Lucius told him to take a seat and offered him some tea. He sat with the cup in both hands, looking around the barren office. Unlike most teachers, who decorated their office in some way with posters related to their subject or little personal touches, Lucius' office contained only the bare necessities, as if he didn't want to admit it belonged to him or wasn't expecting to stay.

"I wanted to apologise to you," Lucius said, leaning back in his own (considerably more comfortable) chair, long fingers curled around his own steaming cup of tea. "I got unnecessarily terse with you on the day of your detention."

Harry didn't expect that. "Um… thanks? It's fine, I guess. It didn't really bother me."

Lucius' lip curled. "Did no one ever teach you how to accept an apology, Potter-Valentine? The manners of your generation are appalling."

Harry scowled, straightened in his seat, and said formally, "Thank you for your apology, Professor Malfoy. I accept it."

Lucius nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Am I excused now?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask something of you. Are you capable of producing a Patronus?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Corporeal?"

Harry nodded.

"May I see it?"

Still wondering why, but unable to resist showing off a bit, Harry put down his tea, drew his wand, and cast the charm. A silver crow burst from his wand, swept once around the room, and then flew into the window and dispersed.

"Impressive," Lucius murmured.

"Why did you want to see that?" Harry asked.

"Because," Lucius said slowly, putting his tea down and leaning forwards, gaze fixed on Harry's, "I need help breaking Tom Riddle out of Azkaban."

"Breaking him _out?!_ Are you mental?"

Lucius scowled. "As you pointed out before, _he_ is the one that killed my son. I want him dead, but I cannot kill him while he sits protected in Azkaban, and as he is serving a life sentence I can hardly wait for him to be released. I have to break him out."

"But—well, what d'you need _my_ help for?"

"I cannot do it alone, and do you think there are many people lining up to help break someone out of Azkaban?"

"No one's ever got out of there before. What makes you think we can do it?"

"I have not yet failed at anything I've set my mind to, and you wield power far beyond what someone your age should. Between us, I think we can break out one prisoner."

Harry wasn't so sure. "I've never used the Patronus against an actual Dementor and it's meant to be harder then. And what if we got caught? We'd end up in Azkaban ourselves! I'm too young to go to jail."

"Oh, we wouldn't be arrested if caught," Lucius said calmly, "we would be Kissed on the spot."

Harry blanched.

"Which means we just have to make sure we're _not_ caught."

"I haven't said I'll do it."

Lucius' eyebrows drew together, eyes darkening and jaw clenching. "You would deny me this?" he said softly and not kindly. "Do you think I appreciate having to ask help from a thirteen year old child? I did so because you have power, and because you, of all people, should understand why this needs to be done. Aside from his own near murder of you, you know what he is, that as long as he exists then the real Dark Lord cannot die. Your prophecy says you can't kill him until you're of age, but it says nothing of Riddle. I cannot do this alone, Potter-Valentine."

"I understand all that, sir, I _do_ , but it's _Azkaban_."

Lucius sat back, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Do you know what gave the Dark Lord so much power during the war? Aside from his own skill?"

Harry frowned, confused by the question. "His followers?"

"Yes, but not all those followers were human. He had scores of dark creatures at his command, including the Dementors. If— _when_ —the Dark Lord returns to human form, he will immediately begin amassing those followers again. He will send envoys to the giants, the werewolves, the vampires—your own father's nest might refuse him, but others won't—and he will seek to turn the Dementors to his side. When he does, he will break all his imprisoned Death Eaters out of Azkaban—and Tom Riddle along with them." He paused then, holding Harry's gaze firmly, fingers going still. "One Dark Lord very nearly destroyed this country as we know it, Potter-Valentine. What do you think two working together could accomplish?"

Harry swallowed thickly.

"Consider it, Potter-Valentine. Let me know your decision before the last week of term."

* * *

Harry left Lucius' office thinking the man must be mad to believe Harry would ever agree to an Azkaban breakout, but as the days went on and the idea stewed in his mind, he couldn't deny that everything he said made a certain kind of sense. Riddle did have to die before Voldemort was killed, Lucius did deserve his revenge, and Harry did want Riddle to pay for what he'd done to him in some way more horrible than a prison sentence.

And, after doing a bit of extra reading about the war, he had to agree Lucius had a point about two Voldemorts. It had taken Harry's own freak survival to stop one; two working together would destroy the world.

He still wasn't _eager_ to break into Azkaban, though, so not until the second to last week of term, after Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff by 130 points and won themselves the Quidditch Cup, and the end of year exams were under way, did Harry steel his nerves and tell Lucius he would help him break Riddle out of Azkaban. Lucius smiled when he said it, although Harry could not say it was a happy smile, exactly.

"Excellent. Next week, then, once the exams are over."

"Why not in the summer?"

Lucius gave him a bland look. "Do you want to tell your parents you need to sneak out to perform an Azkaban breakout, or shall I?"

Harry flushed. "Yeah, alright, next week."

"I will give you details later on. Do not come see me before then. We have no reason to be interacting and it will not do to bring attention to ourselves."

This was not a problem as Harry was too intent on studying for his own exams to waste time thinking about Lucius and what they had to do. He was grateful for the exams, in truth; focusing on his schoolwork reduced how often his mind drifted to the idea of breaking into Azkaban prison.

So while most people were relieved to see the end of exams, chattering happily as they were finally able to relax by the lake in the warm summer sun, Harry was almost disappointed they were over. The last Hogsmeade trip of the year was the next day and Harry lingered in the breakfast hall, morosely stirring his cornflakes while everyone else happily headed off. He knew it was his own fault he wasn't allowed out, but that didn't make him any happier about it.

He was just slouching across the nearly empty Entrance Hall to the dungeons when Lucius came stalking across it and walked straight into him, almost knocking Harry on his backside.

"Watch where you're going, child!" Lucius snarled.

" _You_ walked into _me_!" Harry objected.

"Don't back talk me, Potter-Valentine. Littering, too, I see," he sneered, pointing at a scrap of parchment at Harry's feet. "Littering, disrespect, carelessness… I think that warrants a detention."

"What?! Professor, that's not even my rubbish! You can't give me detention for that!"

"Don't argue with me, or it'll be two! Now pick up your rubbish and get out of the way, and I expect you in my office at eight o'clock tonight."

He stalked off. Harry scowled at his back until he vanished up the marble staircase then bent to scoop up the bit of parchment. Even if it wasn't his, there was no harm in chucking it away.

But as he headed down to Slytherin, he looked it over in idly curiosity and stopped short beside a torch bracket when he realised that the writing on it matched the distinctive cursive on the note Lucius had sent him earlier that year informing him how to learn the prophecy. He scowled at first, thinking it was really unfair to get detention when Lucius himself had been the one littering, but then he read what was written on it.

 _Prepare for tonight._  
 _– plain black robes_  
 _– broomstick_  
 _– invisibility cloak_

He stared at it for a moment before it clicked—the undeserved detention, blaming Harry for littering, demanding that Harry pick it up… this was about the breakout. It was happening _that very night_.

His stomach twisted at the thought and he hurried to Slytherin, the note crumpled tightly in his fist. _Tonight!_ He didn't know if he would be ready… but then, what did he have to prepare? Only his mind. He'd thought it wouldn't happen until sometime next week, but at least it would be done and over by morning. That would be good, he thought. Tonight was probably best, actually, so that he didn't spend the next few days agonising over it.

The Slytherin common room was almost completely empty. Most of the third years and up were in Hogsmeade, but even the first and second years, and older students who didn't feel like going, preferred to enjoy the warmth and sunlight than hide away in the perpetually cool dungeons. The third year dorm was completely empty and Harry was glad for it.

Figuring he shouldn't leave evidence of tonight's plan lying around, he burnt the bit of paper then went to his trunk. He didn't have any plain black robes except his school robes—the others were all coloured or had silver linings or some sort of design—but as school was nearly over and his robes were getting a bit short anyway, he killed some time by removing the Slytherin patch from one of them. That done, he folded them with his invisibility cloak (and he had no idea how Lucius knew about that; he would ask him later) and set them at the top of his trunk, shutting and locking it, then sought about for something else to do.

He tried reading, but couldn't focus. He kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong at Azkaban, inevitably resulting in him and Lucius having their souls sucked out. He cleaned out Samantha's terrarium and spoke to her about the breakout, told her his fears about what he was going to do, but all she had to say was, " _If you are scared, then don't do it. I don't do things that scare me,_ " which, while tempting, was not helpful. He did want Riddle dead, and if this was the way to do it then so be it, but he also didn't know how Lucius would react to his pulling out at this point. It probably wouldn't be nice.

When he'd done the terrarium, he opened his trunk again and fetched his school bag, putting an Undetectable Expansion Charm on it so he could put his Nimbus 2001 inside, then added his Invisibility Cloak as well. That done, he headed up to the library to read up on Azkaban. It might scare the wits out of him to know all the creepy details of the wizard prison, but at least he'd be prepared.

After what seemed like an age, but at the same time felt far too soon, it was dinner. He wasn't very hungry, stomach too nervous to want to eat, but he forced down a large slice of chocolate cake; he would need the fortification for facing the Dementors. After the meal, he sat nervously in the dorm, going over happy memories in his head so they would be ready when he had to conjure a Patronus. He knew it was going to be a lot harder when he was actually in the presence of a Dementor than it was in a classroom.

At quarter to eight, he changed into the black robes, telling Theo that he just noticed he'd spilt dinner on his shirt when the other boy asked why he was changing so late, and took his bag. At Lucius' office, he was a little surprised to find Lucius at his desk, scowling at the large piles of parchment in front of him. He gave Harry a once over then gestured to a chair beside the desk.

"Aren't we going now?" Harry asked, not sitting down.

Lucius scowled at him. "Now? Whilst there are still _students_ roaming the school, let alone teachers?"

"Oh. Right." He sat. "What am I meant to do then?"

Lucius shoved a pile of parchment at him. "Mark those. Actually," he said, taking them back and giving him a different pile, "mark those. I don't want you favouring your friends."

Harry looked at the parchment. "These are exams!"

"Congratulations, you can read."

Harry scowled, but Lucius' attention was on his marking. "Why are you asking me to mark them? That's _your_ job."

"Yes, and it is loathsome. Fortunately this is the last work I ever have to do here, so the sooner it is done, the better. You've passed your NEWT in Defence; I'm sure you can mark some of the exams. It's your detention."

"I can't believe you're actually giving me a detention when I didn't do anything wrong," Harry grumbled, but he took a quill from Lucius' desk and began marking. He found it surprisingly enjoyable; certainly better than writing five hundred lines. Whilst Lucius complained and insulted the students who got things wrong, Harry didn't mind correcting them, though he sort of understood Lucius' frustration when some of the fourth and sixth years answered basic questions wrong.

It was past ten o'clock before Lucius finally threw down his quill. "That's it, I've had enough." There was still the entire first years' exams to mark. "I would rather deal with Dementors than eleven year old idiocy. You brought your Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry nodded, taking it from his bag. "How did you know about it, anyway?"

"I know about a lot of things. Put it on and follow me."

Harry did so and Lucius led him through the now mostly empty hallways to the fourth floor and into Lucius' private quarters. They were just as bland and undecorated as his office and he lit a fire in the hearth with a flick of his wand then took a pot of Floo powder from the mantlepiece and held it out to Harry as he removed the cloak.

"Floo out to Malfoy Manor. We will go from there."

"Doesn't Dumbledore know if anyone leaves the castle by Floo?"

"Perhaps, but I have returned to the manor several times in the past year so he will not wonder at someone travelling there tonight. Go now."

Harry extremely reluctantly stepped into the flames, tensing up the entire time and imagining heat against his legs even though he knew there was none, and the Floo spit him out into a large drawing room filled with portraits and furniture that, while clean, had an air of disuse. Lucius came out the fireplace a moment later. He summoned his house elf, who brought him a cloak and a broom, which he gave to Harry to stow in his bag as he pinned the cloak around him, then told Harry to put his Invisibility Cloak back on and hold his arm tightly.

"Apparate without destination in mind," Lucius told him. "I will guide us."

Harry nodded, concentrated, and turned. The still somewhat strange sensation of Apparition pressed on him, the drawing room dissolved around him, and then the air cooled. He opened his eyes and let go of Lucius to find them standing on a cliff overlooking the North Sea. It was a clear night, stars bright in the sky, but there was only a sliver of a moon, which Lucius was pleased about. Harry could see far out over the sea, which was mostly gentle despite the splash of waves against the rocks beneath them, but he could just make out a spot on the horizon that seemed dense with fog.

"Is that it?" he asked quietly, sticking his hand out from under the cloak to point.

"Yes. Follow me."

Rather than fly, as he expected, Lucius led him to a narrow, steep slope that took them down the cliffside to a stretch of rocky land that could, if it'd been twenty times bigger, be called a beach. A small wooden boat was tied to a post sticking out of the water, just big enough for the two of them, and they climbed in it. With a tap of Lucius' wand, it set out across the water in the direction of the fog.

Harry's stomach was in knots, growing tighter the closer they got to the prison. His legs ached and he rubbed at them, realising that it was past time for his night time pain reliever; he'd been so distracted by what they would be doing that he hadn't thought to take it before his 'detention'. There was nothing to do about it now though. He said nothing as they sailed and neither did Lucius until they could distinguish individual forms amidst the smoke—Dementors, floating ten to twenty feet above sea level.

"Conjure your Patronus now," Lucius said quietly. "It's easier to maintain in their presence than to conjure."

Harry did so, feeling a little better to have the silvery crow perched on his head, then asked, "What about yours?"

"I can't conjure one."

" _What?!_ "

"Quiet!" Lucius hissed, the gleam of his eyes visible in the dark as he glared at the spot where Harry sat. "I do not need one, unless they should attack, in which case I am relying on you to save me."

Harry spluttered beneath his cloak, suddenly thinking that this entire plan was _completely terrible_. He'd thought they would have two Patronuses to protect them, not just his crow, which as they got closer and closer to the Dementors seemed really very small and not a whole lot of help.

He knew without saying anything that Lucius would refuse to turn back now, however, so he just licked his dry lips and asked, "What exactly are we going to do once we reach it?"

"I have a contact who will let us in. We—"

"At eleven o'clock at night?"

He didn't take his eyes off the Dementors, but felt sure Lucius shot him an angry look for interrupting.

"Yes, unless he wants certain dirty secrets spilled for the world to know. The cells are charmed to only open to the keys, which are enchanted to harm anyone not authorised to touch them, so I will have to force him to open the cell for us. Even blackmail only goes so far. I will Transfigure Riddle into an inanimate object for easy transportation, memory charm and glamour the guard in his place to cover our tracks for a while at least, and then we leave. You will maintain the Patronus. Dementors cannot see and will not bother us while we're with a guard, even with you under the cloak, but they will realise something is wrong after we take Riddle and they'll alert the other human guards. We will have to leave quickly, but you will need to keep them from getting close enough to overwhelm us, both in the prison and when we fly back to land."

Harry nodded. They were close to the prison then and he said nothing more as they passed beneath the Dementors. He expected them to swoop in and attack, but although several turned their attention towards the boat, none came close, whether held off by Harry's Patronus or because they, like Lucius' contact, expected them.

Although it had been as hot on the cliff as it had been at Hogwarts all day, Harry shivered, a coldness seeping into his bones, and he had to focus to keep happy memories at the forefront of his mind. A couple of times he thought he heard a distance screaming and he looked around, trying to find it while his crow hopped about as if nervous too, but eventually decided it must be coming from the prison. He'd scream if he was locked up there.

There was a dock on the south end, but Lucius guided the boat around to the east and brought it up against the rocky base. They climbed up carefully to the sheer stone wall of the prison itself and Lucius tapped his wand to it. A minute passed in which Harry shifted nervously under his cloak, trying to ignore the ache in his legs and the craving need for his pain reliever. He tried to ask what they were waiting for, but Lucius shushed him. The crow flew small circles over their heads, that distant screaming now fading in and out of his hearing like a badly tuned radio. He was a bit concerned by it; he'd thought it would get louder and clearer close to the prison, but that wasn't the case and he had a horrible feeling it was coming from inside his own head.

A section of the prison wall opened and a man in black robes beckoned them—or rather, Lucius—inside.

"That's new," the man said in a low voice, gesturing to the crow as he shut the secret door, Harry slipping carefully past before he could get shut out.

"And irrelevant," Lucius said. "Move."

"Yes, _sir_ ," the man grumbled, but turned and led the way through the prison. On the back of his robe, the word GUARD was printed in white letters and he was accompanied by a magpie-shaped Patronus.

There were few Dementors inside the prison itself and they all drifted away when the three of them passed with the two Patronuses. The screaming inside Harry's head grew louder with every one they passed and a few times he heard a phantom howl, like a werewolf in the distance, which, while annoying, at least reassured him that the Dementors were responsible for it and when he left the prison it would go away completely.

Eventually the guard let them into a cell block with three separate Dementors. Harry's crow flickered, a wolf howled loud enough to make him jump, and a woman's voice screamed, _"Not Harry!"_

"Concentrate!" Lucius hissed.

"What?" said the guard. "Me? On what?"

"On nothing," Lucius said, then flicked his wand and said almost lazily, " _Imperio!_ "

Harry, trying to focus on how he'd felt the day Gabriel and Lorna presented him with his adoption certificate, gasped. "That's—"

"Yes?"

"Nothing."

There was no use pointing out the Imperius Curse was illegal when they were breaking someone out of prison. He focused on his memories, glad to see the crow brighten and the Dementors drift away as Harry, Lucius, and the guard moved down the block until they reached the right cell. Looking inside, Harry saw a thin figure curled on an uncomfortable looking bed. They stirred slightly when the guard opened the door, but Lucius cast the Stunning Spell on them before they could properly wake. He rolled the figure onto their back to check it was the right person, face twisting with hate as he looked down at Riddle. Harry peered over at him then away again. Riddle's hair was much longer now and his face covered with short, tangled beard, but he was still recognisable and the sight of him made Harry's legs ache harder with remembered pain, which made his concentration waver and his crow dim slightly.

"Be ready to move," Lucius said quietly. "The Dementors will become alerted as soon as I transfigure him."

Harry nodded, remembered Lucius couldn't see him, and murmured an agreement. Lucius put a glamour spell over the guard that made him look like Riddle, transfigured the real Riddle into a simple wooden spoon, and snatched it up and pocketed it.

"Go!"

Harry didn't need telling twice. The disguised guard dismissed his Patronus and sank onto the hard bed whilst Lucius slammed the door shut and dropped the keys by it. They hurried back the way they came, the crow flapping above their heads, dimming slightly as the running made Harry's legs hurt more and his concentration wavered, but it was enough to keep them safe and they reached the secret entrance unmolested. Several Dementors were following them, however, keeping back as the crow circled around Harry and Lucius, and as Harry tugged off his cloak and pulled out the brooms a loud wailing alarm sounded through the whole prison.

Without speaking, Lucius took his own broom, mounted, and lifted off, Harry close behind. Off his feet, some of the pain in his legs eased and he thought hard about his parents, about Tori, about his friends at Hogwarts, flying the broom more by instinct than anything else. He had to keep the crow strong because what seemed like all the Dementors were chasing after them now, sweeping about above and below them, circling around, eager to get close but held back by the Patronus.

But their sheer numbers were overpowering. Before they were even halfway back to the mainland, the memory of the werewolf attack suddenly pushed forefront of his mind and his vision went black for a moment as he remembered Snape lying dead and bloody in the back garden of Spinner's End.

"CONCENTRATE!" he heard Lucius yell. He tried, trying to remember his seventh birthday instead, his joy when Gareth revealed Lego Hogwarts to him. His vision cleared, but when the crow wheeled around he saw it barely glowing and the Dementors were closer. He was shivering from cold and his legs throbbed. He could remember too clearly the agony of flames licking at his feet and calves, burning away his skin and muscles.

" _Not Harry! Please, not Harry!"_

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the woman's shouts, but the Dementors were closer still and he couldn't remember anything happy. He knew there were times he had been, but right now he could not think of a single one of those times. All he could remember was fire on his legs and claws raking through his back.

The crow vanished. Harry saw the Dementors swoop towards him, his fingers went numb, and he was just aware enough to notice when he fell from his broom. He could feel himself falling, but his vision wavered, his ears filled with screams—the woman begging for his life, his own shrieks of pain, Snape's yells before his throat was ripped out—and he crashed into the sea, sinking beneath the waves as everything went black.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Harry was surprised to wake up. Then he was confused as to why he was surprised. It took a while for him to remember what happened, by which point he'd blearily opened his eyes and looked around to find himself laying on a sofa with Lucius Malfoy in a chair facing him, in the drawing room where they'd Flooed into earlier.

"Good, you're awake."

Harry sat up, a blanket falling away as he did, and rubbed at his head. His mouth tasted like seawater. Lucius held out a large bar of chocolate.

"Eat that."

Harry took it, opening it as the memories of what happened came back to him. Azkaban... the escape... falling from his broom...

"What happened?" he asked Lucius as he snapped off a strip from the bar. "How did we get away?"

"The water saved your life. Dementors appear are either unwilling or unable to breach the sea surface," he explained at Harry's baffled look. "I dropped in after you, put Bubblehead Charms on us both, and let us sink until we were far enough from the effects of the Dementors that I felt safe to Apparate without fear of splinching."

"So where's Riddle?"

"Dead."

" _Already?_ "

"I saw no reason to wait, and I couldn't be sure you wouldn't change your mind when it came to actually murdering him."

"Where's his body?"

A small table sat by Luciusʼ chair and he tapped it now, drawing Harry's attention to a jar of grey ashes.

"What's that?"

"That is what remains of Tom Riddle. I burned him."

Harry stared at the ashes, hesitated, then asked, "Alive?"

Lucius looked at him calculatingly then answered simply, "Yes."

Harry shuddered, remembering all too well the pain of flames against his own skin, but decided it was nothing more than Riddle deserved.

But his legs throbbed at the thought of it and he remembered again that he was long overdue his pain reliever.

"Sir, can we go back now?"

"Soon. Finish the chocolate."

"I'll finish it at school."

Lucius scowled. "You look barely able to walk to my fireplace, let alone back to Slytherin. Finish it, then we will go."

Deciding it was easier not to argue, Harry scarfed down the rest of the chocolate. Far from making him feel better, however, it made his head spin and his eyelids droop. He blinked blearily at Lucius as the man stood up and took him by the shoulders, gently laying him down.

"Sleep, child," he said softly. Harry struggled not to. He had to get back to Hogwarts, he couldn't sleep. Chocolate was supposed to help after a Dementor attack, not make the eater feel worse. Wasn't it? "Sleep."

He slept.

Lucius looked down at the unconscious boy, watching him sleep for a moment. He couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a sudden heart-wrenching lurch of sadness as he imagined a boy with blond hair instead. He closed his eyes, inhaling shakily and forcing away the image and the accompanying feelings of guilt and hesitation at what he was going to do to Harry. He'd developed an odd sort of fondness for the boy, who sparked the kind of tenderness that Lucius hadn't felt in two and a half years.

But he wouldn't let it stop him. He hadn't felt that tenderness in years because his own son was dead. If Harry's life was what it took to enact vengeance on the man who killed Draco, Lucius would not hesitate.

He transfigured the sleeping boy into a silver goblet, secured him in his pocket, and Apparated away. Riddle and the other Horcruxes were dead and destroyed, burned together in a pyre of Fiendfyre, and he was on the last stretch of his task now. He had no sure idea how long it would take him, nor of exactly how long he had before people started looking for him and Harry, so now he needed to work fast.

* * *

As it was a Sunday, no one thought much of Harry's absence for most of the day. In the morning, when Theo found his roommate's bed empty, he assumed Harry was already up even though it was still fairly early and he knew Harry hadn't returned from his detention until late the night before, because he hadn't been back when Theo finally went to bed.

Although missing at breakfast as well, it wasn't huge cause for concern. Students wandered in and out of the great hall at all hours on the weekend, especially on Sundays when there was no clear break between breakfast, brunch, and lunch. Similarly, even when Tori and Theo both went looking for Harry it wasn't a big concern that they didn't find him because students were constantly in and out of the castle, moving around to visit friends, go to the bathroom, or (for the insanely eager who didn't care that it was a Sunday and a week before the end of term) go to the library. The castle was so big, with so many passages that could drop one person on the second floor and another on the fifth just two minutes later, that finding someone in it could be next to impossible.

Tori started to worry at dinner. Theo started to worry at bed time.

The staff, to their great regret, didn't notice.

Dumbledore received a letter in the morning from Cornelius Fudge saying that someone had attempted to break Tom Riddle out of Azkaban. The attempt failed, Fudge assured Dumbledore and went on to add that it might not have even been Riddle they wanted to break out, it was just that the Dementors, when asked, always pointed at his cell, but they could easily be wrong. Dumbledore, unwilling to put all his faith in Dementors or Fudge's word, left the school to visit Fudge and Azkaban and find out for himself what happened. He considered Tom Riddle to be in no small part his responsibility.

All of this happened before breakfast, so he was never given chance to note Lucius' absence from the staff table during the morning meal.

The other teachers did, but because staff were permitted to summon house elves to bring food to their rooms or offices, and Lucius often went days without appearing in the Great Hall, no one gave it much thought that he wasn't at breakfast that morning. As he'd made no effort to ingratiate himself amongst the other teachers, no one cared that they didn't see him all day, and most of them assumed he was sulking in his rooms about the end of year exams he had to mark. It was well known how much he loathed marking—and every other aspect of teaching aside from demonstrating magic.

As such, his absence was not noted until Professor Sprout went looking for him hoping to switch hallway patrol with him. She had spent most of the evening digging Colin Creevey out of the living compost pile when the little idiot tried to photograph the venomous tentacular, so she was twice as filthy as normal, aching to her bones, and not keen on spending two hours patrolling the castle in search of students breaking curfew. Lucius, to everyone's surprise, was always willing to accept extra patrol shifts, which almost made up for how unfriendly he was most of the time.

Failing to find him, she enlisted Flitwick into taking her shift instead, for the simple reason that he was the one she met on the way to her own quarters. Flitwick agreed readily enough, knowing Sprout was good to make it up to him at a later date, and kept an eye out for Lucius whilst he roamed the halls. At the end of the two hours—during which he'd found the Weasley twins jinxing toilets, stopped Peeves from booby trapping Flitwick's own classroom door, and looked in at the Hospital Wing in case Lucius was ill—he was heading to see McGonagall to remark upon Lucius' absence when he met Dumbledore coming in the castle front door. Lucius' absence was not yet cause for concern—they might have all just missed each other while wandering the castle—but the Charms teacher felt it should be noted, and so after greeting the headmaster he mentioned it.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I am not surprised."

"What's happened, Albus?" Flitwick asked. He knew the headmaster well enough to know when something bad was going on.

"Tom Riddle has escaped from Azkaban."

Flitwick gasped. "You think Lucius Malfoy was involved?"

"I am almost certain of it, now, but he had help. Two people were involved in the breakout."

"But why? Riddle is responsible for poor young Draco's death."

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, "and I do not think he will ever be found alive." He sighed again then asked Flitwick, "Please do not mention this to the others yet. I will hold an emergency staff meeting in the morning. Riddle's escape will no doubt hit the morning papers. I need to go to Lucius' rooms."

"You don't think he'll come back here, surely?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, but there may be some clue as to where he'll go, some piece of information. Goodnight, Filius."

The only thing of surprise in Lucius' unpersonalised rooms and office was the fact that his clothes were still in the wardrobe and his first year exams were unmarked. Dumbledore expected the man to take with him what few belongings he'd brought to the school, and for all that the man complained about marking his students' work he hated to leave things unfinished, something Dumbledore recalled from teaching him. Of course, he was still a Slytherin and so if he could, he'd have someone else complete something for him instead, which explained why half the exams had different handwriting on them. Dumbledore knew Lucius had wrangled his NEWT students into marking younger years' homework before; it was no surprise he did the same with this.

He slept little that night, exchanging owls with Fudge and the Aurors, talking with the portraits in his office, and feeling that he was missing something vitally important amidst all this. He found himself thinking about Severus Snape late in the night. Severus' knowledge of Lucius Malfoy would have been invaluable at a time like this, and he'd likely have had some insight that Dumbledore didn't. Perhaps it was the Slytherin in him, or the Muggle blood, but Severus had always managed to come at things from a different direction than Dumbledore.

Each of the teachers had a portrait who guarded their personal quarters and acted as a personal messenger, and it was these that Dumbledore relied on to wake them early for his unscheduled staff meeting. At seven o'clock the next morning, all the teachers, including Trelawney, were collected in the staff room to hear the news. They took it in stride, several expressing the same surprise at Lucius breaking out Riddle that Flitwick had, and concern at there being a teenage Dark Lord potentially running around the country, but all in all they were not hugely surprised that _something_ had happened. All of them had been at the school long enough to not expect the Defence teachers to last more than a year; there was a even an established betting pool on the matter and Dumbledore saw Sprout, Vector, and Babbling looking faintly disgruntled.

He warned them to keep an eye on the students, in case the shocking news of someone breaking out of Azkaban made some of the more sensitive students have problems, then headed off to breakfast, where he ate his marmalade toast with his mind elsewhere until, on his left, Gareth nudged him and said, "Albus, look."

A group of Slytherin third years had just arrived. At the Ravenclaw table, Tori Valentine got up from her uneaten cereal and rushed over to them, but Dumbledore furrowed his brow at noticing that Harry was not among the newly arrived students. Tori spoke instead to Theodore Nott, and then both of them marched up to the staff table. Dumbledore put down his toast.

"Sir," Tori began without preamble to Dumbledore, "I think my brother's missing."

"You _think_ , Miss Valentine?"

"No one's seen him since Saturday night."

"I thought I just missed him," Theo said, looking unusually distressed. "When he wasn't in the dorm yesterday morning, I thought he'd already gone to breakfast, but he wasn't there and then we couldn't find him all day, but the castle's so big—I'm sorry, sir, I should have looked harder."

"I am sure you looked just as hard as you could," Dumbledore assured him, though it didn't make the boy look any more at ease.

Tori took over. "He says Harry didn't turn up at the dorm last night, either."

"Who was the last person to see him?" Gareth asked.

"Me," Theo said, almost cringing as he said it. "When he left for his detention Saturday night."

That was clearly news to Gareth even though Heads of Houses were meant to be informed of such punishments. "Detention with who?"

"Professor Malfoy."

"Son of a—"

"Gareth!"

Gareth snapped his mouth shut. "Apologies, Headmaster."

"What was the detention for?" Dumbledore asked Theo.

"Littering and being rude, but Harry said it was undeserved and just Professor Malfoy being a git. His words," he hurried to add.

"Very well, thank you, Mr Nott, you may go. Miss Valentine, I think you should accompany myself and Professor Martin to my office; we need to contact your parents. Minerva," he said, turning to the witch on his right; all the staff had been listening to the conversation, "I think we will cancel classes for the day. Confine everyone to their common rooms and enlist the prefects, head students, and ghosts to help search the castle."

"You don't think Malfoy took him?" McGonagall asked quietly, aware that several students at the end of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were looking up at them curiously, no doubt remembering the excitement of the last time Tori Valentine spoke to Dumbledore at breakfast.

"I expect so," Dumbledore answered just as quietly, "but that doesn't mean we should ignore the other possibilities. Harry's disappearance may be unrelated to Lucius'."

He, Tori, and Gareth left the hall as McGonagall made the announcement to the rest of the school. Within half an hour, the three of them were in Dumbledore's office and accompanied by Jennifer, there in the Valentines' stead during daylight hours, as was her custom.

"Lord and Lady Valentine say that you have until sundown to find Harry," Jennifer told Dumbledore gravely, "at which point they will come to the school themselves to take their children home, be it one or both. I will remain at Tori's side until that time."

Dumbledore nodded. "In that case, Ms Fontaine, I have to ask that you remain in my office whilst I join my staff in their search of the castle and grounds. I cannot allow you to roam the school without a member of staff, I'm sure you understand. If you need anything—food, drink, or to contact me—please call for the house elf Etsy."

He took a silver spinning top from one of his cluttered tables and placed it on the desk, where it spun slowly but steadily. "This is connected to Harry," he told Jennifer and Tori. "So long as it continues to spin, however slow, then he is alive."

* * *

It took Lucius a week. A week he spent growing more and more afraid and paranoid, constantly looking over his shoulder for Dementors, Aurors, and vampires. He found the latter, but they were not of Gabriel's nest, just wild vampires seeking to feast on the obvious foreigner in their woods.

He knew Voldemort was in Albania, but that still left him with an entire country to search. He knew the Dark Lord would be nowhere heavily populated, so he visited small villages and towns, relying on a Translation Charm to understand the locals. He moved around until he heard rumours of a dark spirit and strange animal deaths in a southern forest near the Greek border. From there, he relied on dark magic detection spells to finally lead him to the snake that Voldemort was currently possessing. He knew it was Voldemort because not only was it a perfectly normal viper wrapped in massive amounts of dark magic, but the rest of the snakes in the vicinity seemed, to Lucius, to be scared of it.

It hissed at him when he cast the dark magic detection spell on it, but when he got to one knee and bowed his head with a murmured "My Lord," it raised its head higher but stopped hissing threateningly.

Unsure if he would be able to commune with Voldemort in spirit form, and obviously unable to while he possessed a snake, Lucius withdrew from his pocket the goblet that was Harry, backed away slightly to give himself some space, and lay it on the ground before transfiguring the boy back to human. He was still unconscious. Lucius had transfigured him back once a day in the past week to ensure he was still alive and give him some food and water, but he'd been careful to keep him just barely conscious and to take his wand away.

Now, however, he muttered, " _Renervate_ ," over him and then " _Imperio!_ " before Harry could properly wake. He blinked his eyes open and looked at Lucius calmly, but didn't sit up until Lucius silently commanded him to.

 _Tell the Dark Lord that I am here to restore him to power,_ he silently ordered Harry, who obediently turned his head and hissed at the serpent. It hissed back and Harry said to Lucius, "The Dark Lord thanks you and—"

Harry's face twitched and for a brief moment his gaze cleared, but Lucius forced his will harder and Harry continued, "—and promises that you will be well rewarded for your loyalty."

"Your return to power is all the reward I need," Lucius said directly to the snake while Harry echoed his words in Parseltongue, with a few pauses that showed he was fighting the Imperius Curse. Lucius was reluctantly impressed at his will power.

Lucius had already prepared for when he would finally find Voldemort, so all they needed now was a clearing with room to do the rebirthing ritual. It wasn't hard to find one and Lucius tied Harry to a tree—the Imperius would not hold while his concentration was distracted, he could tell—then set about withdrawing from Harry's own stolen bag a massive cauldron, a half-dozen jugs of prepared potion, and a human skull.

He explained the ritual to Voldemort as he worked and hoped he believed Lucius enough to actually do it. Lucius didn't fancy having to tackle a snake and force it into the potion if Voldemort thought Lucius was trying to trick him. He was banking on the fact that Lucius had always been loyal before, and that Voldemort would understand his reasons for claiming the Imperius after Voldemort's downfall in 1981.

"You bastard!"

Lucius glanced up from pouring the potion into the cauldron. Harry was free of the Imperius, glaring harshly at Lucius and squirming in his bonds, but Lucius had made sure they were secure.

"You tricked me! You're bringing him back to life!"

"I _am_ a Death Eater," Lucius said coldly.

"What about everything you said to me? What about your revenge? What about _Draco_?"

Lucius couldn't help glancing towards the serpent slithering restlessly nearby, then looked back to Harry and said quietly, "The Dark Lord asks many sacrifices of his followers. We are always willing to make them."

"What about the—"

"Silence!" Lucius yelled at him, jerking his wand towards the boy and conjuring a cloth gag directly into his mouth. "I have important work to do, Potter-Valentine; I do not need your irksome nattering the whole time."

Harry glared furiously.

He finished emptying the potion into the cauldron, lit a fire under it and waited for it to come to boil, then turned his attention to Voldemort. He mightn't know Parseltongue, but it was clear Voldemort could understand his English fine. "You need to enter the cauldron, my lord," he said respectfully, bowing slightly.

Voldemort slithered up to him. He snapped at Lucius' ankles in a clear threat, but coiled around Lucius' arm when he lowered his hand. Lucius held him over the cauldron and the snake made one last threatening hiss at Lucius before slipping into the potion and sinking to the very bottom of the bubbling liquid.

Lucius picked up the human skull he'd brought with him, lifted it over the cauldron, and said clearly, " _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son_ ," before dropping it in. The liquid turned instantly a vivid, poisonous blue and sparked.

Rolling back his sleeve, Lucius then held his left arm over the cauldron and put the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark seared into his flesh.

" _Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master._ "

He hesitated briefly, because this was where it could all go wrong. In seeking and reviving Voldemort, Lucius considered himself the man's servant, but he was by no means a loyal one and that could ruin the entire plan. Nevertheless, he grit his teeth and carved away the entire chunk of flesh baring the Dark Mark, cutting himself all the way down to the bone and thankful for the numbing agent he'd rubbed into it before coming into the forest. It made what would have been an exceptionally agonising process into something little more painful than walking into a door frame.

The chunk of flesh fell into the cauldron with a plop and the potion turned burning red, still sparking. Hurriedly conjuring bandages for the wound, Lucius loosely covered the hole in his arm and then approached Harry, trembling slightly. He might not feel the full pain, but his body knew what he'd done to it and it did not approve.

" _Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will renew your foe_."

Harry shouted what Lucius assumed were insults and obscenities through the gag, but he could not stop Lucius cutting into his cheek with a murmured spell then twirling his wand to make a swirl of blood coil through the air and arc into the cauldron. The potion turned blinding white, spitting shimmering diamond sparks, then it gave off a billow of white steam that obscured everything in the vicinity. Then, from out of the mist, a figure emerged from the cauldron.

"Robe me," said a familiar, high, cold voice that elicited long-forgotten feelings of fear and respect in Lucius, yet at the same time caused a surge of violent hatred. He shook from fear, hate, and growing pain as he flicked his wand to conjure robes directly onto the skeletally thin figure. His numbing agent was wearing off, or being overwhelmed, and his left arm was utterly useless to him now.

Voldemort stepped out of the dispersing steam. His eyes were scarlet red, his nose flat as a snake's with just slits for nostrils, and his skin bone white and shimmering oddly as if he had snake scales instead of human flesh. He looked down at himself, running long, thin hands over his robed body, arms, and face, feeling himself, understanding his new body, and then he looked down at Lucius, who'd sunk to his knees, trembling still.

"My Lord..."

Without a word, Voldemort reached down and snatched away Lucius' wand. Lucius grasped for it, but he was caught off guard and he couldn't grab it in time, and he realised that a loyal servant wouldn't anyway so he let his right hand fall to his lap and said nothing, determined to keep his traitorous feelings hidden. He still had Harry's wand in his pocket and until Harry was dead, he could not reveal his true loyalty.

Voldemort crouched and grabbed Lucius' left wrist, hard. Lucius gasped as pain seared all through his arm and hand, unable to restrain a pained whimper as Voldemort ripped away the loose bandages to reveal the bloody mess beneath, a gleam of white bone visible between the strips of remaining muscles and tendons.

"So," Voldemort said coldly, hand tightening around Lucius' wrist until the bones cracked and Lucius cried out in pain. "A servant, but not a loyal one."

He let go and stood, backing away as Lucius bent over his arm and hissed in shallow breaths between his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain.

"You will pay, Lucius, later, but do not think me ungrateful for the service you have done me. I will not make your death too drawn out."

He turned then to Harry.

"Harry Potter..."

Harry said something behind the gag that Lucius knew was him correcting Voldemort on his name. Despite wandless and bound before the darkest wizard of the age, he showed no fear, staring angrily up at Voldemort, blood dripping down his scarred face.

"I would much prefer to kill you with an audience," Voldemort said, staring unblinking at Harry, "but Lucius has left me no way to summon my followers. I confess that I could not say how many would even arrive if I called them. The people who swore loyalty to me years ago have yet gone more than a decade without ever searching for me, without seeking to help me and bring me back to power. Perhaps they think me truly defeated by the unfortunate events of thirteen years ago, but I will prove them wrong when I return to England, and they shall pay for abandoning me all these years.

"You realise that is all your survival was," he added, stepping closer to Harry. "An unfortunate event. Do you even understand it?"

Harry was silent, still glaring, but Voldemort seemed to know the truth, as he always did. Lucius wished he would just get on with it and murder the boy. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay conscious, or even survive, with a chunk of his arm missing.

"No, you have no idea, do you, Harry? Shall I explain? You see, when I tried to kill you, your foolish Mudblood mother insisted on sacrificing herself for you. I gave her the chance to live, to step aside, but she refused and so I cut her down just as I did your father. Unfortunately, that sacrifice—the sacrifice of a mother for her child... it is an ancient magic that I overlooked. It protected you from me, turning the curse that should have killed you on myself. I was torn from my body, painfully ripped apart, but I had gone to great lengths to prevent myself from ever dying and they saved me from true death that night. I was rendered bodiless and powerless, forced into nothing more than a spirit, but I was still alive and able to hide until someone came to my aid." He gaze flicked to Lucius. "I would have asked for someone more loyal than Lucius, but I take what I can get. I confess myself surprised at his disloyalty, but I'm sure he will tell me all about it later. For now," he raised Lucius' wand and pointed it directly at Harry, "you are my interest, Harry."

He stepped back, flicked his wand, and the ropes binding Harry fell away. He staggered slightly but caught himself and straightened up, glaring furiously at Voldemort and removing the gag from his mouth but saying nothing.

"In different circumstances, I might give you the chance to fight me as an equal, Harry. I saw myself how advanced your spell casting was just three years ago. I am sure you've only improved since then. However you have no wand, I have no audience, and all I want is to see your body at my feet."

Lucius slipped his right hand into his pocket, wrapping his trembling fingers weakly around Harry's wand and drawing it carefully out, unwilling to draw Voldemort's attention. The Dark Lord was entirely focused on Harry, however; but Harry's gaze flicked to Lucius, who had no time to hide the wand from sight, the unusual white wood clearly visible in the low flickering flame still burning under the cauldron. Harry's gaze narrowed slightly, angry, but then widened as his eyes flicked up to meet Lucius'.

Although Lucius was skilled at the Imperius Curse, he had never mastered Legilimency and Occlumency, but in that short moment their eyes met he felt certain that Harry now understood why Lucius had done what he did. It would explain why the boy squared his shoulders, looked at Voldemort fearlessly, and said without so much as a quiver in his voice, "Kill me then," and spat at his feet.

Voldemort's lips drew back in an angry snarl, he flourished Lucius' wand, and cried out, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

* * *

Gareth was sprawled on the floor of his sitting room when Dumbledore entered, his dark red hair loose from its ponytail and splayed around him, clothes rumpled and the same ones he'd been wearing for the last three days. As always since Harry and Lucius disappeared, Dumbledore looked first to Gareth's left hand, but there were no fresh words carved into his skin. The headmaster was both relieved and guiltily disappointed. If Gareth started hurting himself, it meant he knew something and could do something, even if it hurt him.

Normally Gareth went home for the summer, but it looked like he planned to stay in the castle this year and Dumbledore was silently grateful for it. Although Gareth's clothes and greasy hair said he wasn't bothering with his own hygiene, the room around him was at least clean. Dumbledore knew that was only because of the house elves. Dumbledore had insisted Gareth continue his lessons and Head of House duties for the last few days of term, giving the house elves chance to come in and clean while he wasn't there. Now, with the students gone for the summer and Gareth without any duties, he might well dismiss any house elves that tried to clean up after him. Already there was a mess around the coffee table. Still, he had to sleep at some point and it wouldn't be the first time Dumbledore had the house elves sneaking around his employee's rooms to tidy up a bit.

What'd'you want?" Gareth mumbled without looking away from the ceiling.

"Just checking up on you."

"I am neither drunk, nor drugged, nor..."

"Nor...?"

"Nor dangerously disconsolate, nor damaging the dermis," he said, his left hand flopping weakly against the floor to draw attention to his undamaged skin. "I am just as fine as can be."

"We will find him, Gareth," Dumbledore said as a flicker of light and movement to one side caught his eye.

"We haven't yet."

"School is over," Dumbledore noted, moving over to the large map covering the coffee table between the sofa and the fireplace. "We have more time to look without distraction. What is this?"

"What's what?"

"This map."

"Looking for Harry."

Dumbledore frowned. Most tracking spells like this required some part of the person being sought—such as blood, which is what glistened on the map before him, bright red and wet as if freshly shed.

"You're related to Harry?"

A slight pause, then: "It's Petunia Dursley's blood."

"I won't ask how you got that," Dumbledore said diplomatically. "More importantly, why did you not bring this to my attention before? You've found him!"

"No, I—"

Gareth scrambled to his feet and rushed over, staring down at the map, brow furrowed. The drop of blood on it sat over a forest in southern Albania. "Why _now_?"

"Gareth?"

"That blood has been dry for days. Why is the spell working now? What changed?"

Dumbledore considered it. "He's no longer under cloaking spells to hide his location. They failed or he removed them. Regardless, we should go before he moves... or something terrible happens. Albania is the last place Voldemort was seen."

Gareth swore, dug through the mess around the coffee table, and grabbed a long, thin black quill and a crumpled but blank sheet of parchment. Before he could start writing, Dumbledore snatched the quill away.

"Don't you start that now!"

"I have to!" Gareth snarled, trying to grab it back, then giving up and casting a summoning charm in the direction of his bedroom. A second quill came soaring through and he grabbed it out of the air and leapt away when Dumbledore tried to take that one, too. "Look, Albus, we can go to Albania and you can patch me up as we go if you like, but _I have to do this_. I don't care if I lose my hand in the process, _I am going_."

The hand holding the quill trembled as he stared at Dumbledore. Dumbledore stared back, mouth tight with displeasure, his own hand clenched around the first quill.

"Fight it, Gareth," he ordered softly. "I know your orders can be fought and it's painful, but it won't damage you as much as that quill. We will go, together, but only if you promise me that you will fight the urge to use that quill as much as you possibly can. Otherwise I will charm you to your bed and get the house elves to keep you here until I'm back."

Gareth nodded, mouth quirking into a grin although Dumbledore was utterly serious. "I promise."

* * *

Tori never thought she would hate being at home, but in the week since Harry went missing, she couldn't go anywhere unwatched. She wasn't even allowed into the garden and everywhere she went in the house there was always someone keeping an eye on her. Even when she couldn't see them, she knew they were there. Her bedroom and the bathroom were the only places in the whole manor she could really be alone.

God knows why her parents thought anyone could get to her in the house. Since Aurelia's attack on Harry in January, the security around the whole place was increased exponentially: professionals had been hired to put the most powerful charms possible on the house and grounds, the highest grade security cameras and Muggle alarms were installed, and there was a guard patrolling the ground at all times, a vampire at night and either Ada Khaler or a newly hired wizard during the day.

And Tori desperately wanted to get out of the house. She'd never seen her parents so on edge. The day she got back, for the first time in Tori's memory, they argued. Gabriel should have been able to find Harry. The blood he gave them both should have allowed him to seek Harry out from the farthest corner of the earth, but it hadn't worked and Lorna had blamed Gabriel. They made up again afterward, but Tori had to wondered if Lorna had meant it and still harboured Gabriel some ill will.

Sometimes they would sit in Harry's bedroom for hours, not moving, not speaking, just staring at the walls. Other times, Lorna would shut herself in her workshop while Gabriel would roam about the house like a zombie. Tori heard them shout and snarl at the nest vampires, but they never raised their voices or lost their tempers with her, not even when Gabriel caught her trying to get into the nest area to find out who was being held prisoner back there. She'd heard the nest vampires talk about him in a hushed whisper and the mystery of it was some distraction from everything else that was happening.

They all just wanted Harry back, but all they had to know if he was even alive was the silver spinning top that Gabriel stole from Albus Dumbledore the night he came to pick Tori up from Hogwarts. He carried it everywhere with him, never letting it out of his sight, and often spent hours just staring at it, either as he sat at his desk in his office or as he wandered the house, the top spinning slowly and steadily in the palm of his hand.

Then one night he burst into the family room where Tori was morosely half-paying attention to a documentary on polar bears. Jennifer and Lorna were both there too, and they all looked at Gabriel in surprise. His cheeks had a slight flush to them, notable because Tori knew her father hadn't been eating lately which gave his skin a dull grey bloodless look, and he held out the spinning top, which now whirled on his palm with much greater speed than it had all week.

"I can feel him!" he breathed as Lorna leapt up from her seat and went to his side so fast Tori didn't even see her move. "I can feel him, I can find him!"

"Do you know where?" Lorna asked urgently.

"Far. I'm taking the Portkey to Kastoria—" where their Greek summer home was "—and working from there."

"I'm coming as well," Lorna said. Gabriel merely nodded.

"Tori, stay with Jennifer— _at all times_. We'll be back soon."

She nodded and hugged them both tightly, trying not to worry as they left. They were her parents and they were vampires; they'd be back with Harry safe and sound in no time.

* * *

Harry could not say that he wanted to die, truthfully. He knew too well what was waiting for him on the other side. Anita might have no fear about going to whatever hell awaited Sikhs, but Harry didn't. He'd read about hell dimensions in the demon books he bought and he didn't want to end up in one of those or the fire and brimstone of Christian hell, which he didn't believe in but wasn't totally sure that _it_ didn't believe in _him_.

Whatever the case, he knew it would be _bad_.

But he also knew he had no choice. One day he would die. His decision to sell his soul to a demon meant that he would die much earlier than most people. He didn't appreciate dying three extra years before his early due date, but he wasn't given a choice.

And he understood why Lucius had done it. He understood that Voldemort had to die, and that he, Harry, had to die first in order for that to happen. When he broke free of the Imperius Curse, he did think Lucius honestly wanted Voldemort resurrected, but when he cut out his own Dark Mark and then withdrew Harry's wand from his pocket whilst Voldemort aimed Lucius' wand between Harry's eyes, Harry realised that the one being tricked was Voldemort. By killing Harry, he was destroying his own Horcrux and then Lucius could kill him for good.

So while he wasn't happy to die, Harry at least understood that it was necessary and unavoidable, and decided that if it was going to happen then he wouldn't cower and beg or try to flee. He would face Voldemort like a man and die with his back straight. He did not close his eyes as the green light hurtled towards him, not even to blink, and then—

He opened his eyes. He lay on something hard and rough. Above him, clear blue sky filled his vision. For a long time he just laid there, staring up at it. If this was hell, it wasn't so bad.

Eventually he sat up and looked around.

He was at the centre of a crossroads.

The road was made of gravel, but flat and even in all four directions, which vanished into the far distance. Cornering the crossroads were four fields. One was filled with the same yellow yarrow plant he used to summon the demon; one was a riot of all the different coloured roses in Gabriel's garden; one looked like the forest in which he'd just died; and one was utterly barren.

Laying a short way into the barren field was a strange... child was the best word he could come up with, but it was flayed red and raw, like its skin had been stripped off. It lay shuddering some eight or ten feet away from the centre of the crossroads, alone and abandoned, and he took a hesitant step towards it.

The moment he set foot on the dead earth, dogs appeared within the field, giant, monstrous creatures with red eyes and vicious teeth.

"Don't."

He spun, stepping out of the field. Leaning against a sign post that Harry couldn't remember noticing before was—

"Severus!"

He inclined his head slightly. "Harry."

"But... but you're dead!"

"Yes."

"So am I, then."

Snape did not answer. He stepped away from the signpost and stood beside Harry, looking across the barren field at the strange child-thing, and his lip curled in that way it always used to when he came face to face with Vernon Dursley. He didn't seem afraid of the dogs—hellhounds, Harry knew, instinctively.

Oddly, he found he wasn't afraid of them either.

"You cannot help it," Snape said to Harry, "and they won't come for you here, so don't step into the fields."

Harry nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "But then, is this hell?"

Snape scowled at him. It was so long since he'd seen that look, but so familiar to him that he couldn't help grinning in return and, without waiting for answer, flung his arms around the man's waist.

"I missed you."

Snape's hand stroked his hair. "You have managed without me. You found a family."

"Yeah, but I still missed you."

"I know."

Harry drew back, looking up at the man, still smiling. Snape gave one of his thin, almost smiles in return and said, "To answer your question, this is not hell."

"But I—" He broke off.

"You sold your soul to a demon."

"You know about that? Have you been watching me from the afterlife?"

Again, Snape did not answer his question. "Do you remember what Voldemort told you just before he cast the Killing Curse?"

Harry didn't gasp or flinch at the sound of Voldemort's name. Facing up to the man and letting him kill him had stripped away his fear. He only wondered at how strange it sounded coming from Snape's mouth.

"You mean about my birth mum dying for me?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"It's blood magic, Harry. Powerfully strong blood magic."

"O...kay. So...?"

"So think, idiot child," he said, but not unkindly.

He thought. Lily's sacrifice protected him from dying last time Voldemort tried to kill him. If it was in his blood, still running through his veins, then maybe it was still there and still strong enough to protect him again.

"I'm not dead."

"That," Snape said, "remains to be seen."

"It does? I don't understand. Am I dead or not?"

"You're at a crossroads, Harry." He spun a finger around, indicating the four roads leading away from them. "You have been struck by the deadliest curse known to man. By all rights, you _should_ be dead, but you should have realised by now that there is a difference between bodily death and soul death, and there are powerful magics that can protect a person from one or the other."

"Or both," Harry murmured, looking across the barren field at the child-thing. "But I don't understand. I've never made a Horcrux. I've got nothing to protect my soul from death."

"It's a good thing, therefore, that he did not try to kill your soul."

"You mean..." He considered it, frowning, then: "You mean that because my body didn't die, because of my mum's protection, then my soul couldn't die either?"

"Could not move on," Snape corrected. "It takes a great deal of power to kill a soul and very different methods than killing the body."

"Right, okay, but..." He looked around him, gazing in turn at each of the roads leading away from him. "A crossroads... I have to pick a direction, don't I?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Look at these roads, Harry. Tell me what they have in common."

"Uh... they're all flat and made of gravel."

"And?"

"And... I can't see the end?"

"Obviously," Snape said dryly. "What else? Think about them in relation to yourself."

Harry frowned, looking at them all, but the only thing he could think seemed painfully obvious. "Well, they're all going away from me."

"Precisely."

"But I'm at a crossroads, of course they're all going away from me. That doesn't mean anything."

"It means that if you pick one, then you'll be going away as well."

"I know that!" Harry said, annoyed by him now. "But I don't know where they're going to so I don't know which to pick!"

Snape's hands came down on his shoulders and Harry looked up into his dark eyes. "You're thinking about it backwards, Harry. It's not where they're going that matters; it's where they're coming from."

"They're coming from here. They're coming from... from me," he said, finally understanding. "They're all coming away from me. All of them go somewhere that isn't me, so if I want to get back to my body, I can't take any."

Snape took his hands away and smiled, saying nothing.

"But, Severus, I can't just stay here, can I? That won't get me back to my body."

Snape still said nothing. Harry looked around again. He looked at the thing in the barren field, at the woods and roses and yarrow, and at the far ends of the roads. They didn't precisely disappear beyond the horizon because there _wasn't_ a horizon. There was just a sort of... nothingness.

A thought occurred to him. "Severus, is this real?"

There was no answer. He turned, but Snape was gone.

That, Harry thought, was all the answer he needed.

* * *

He was sprawled against the tree to which Lucius had tied him earlier, as if the force of Voldemort's curse had knocked him against it. When he opened his eyes, it took a moment for them to adjust to the dim light. Voldemort was on the floor opposite him, sitting up, apparently having suffered in some way from the curse just as much as Harry.

Lucius stepped over to Voldemort. He shook, looking as if he could barely stand, face ashen and sweat-soaked, and he pointed Harry's wand at Voldemort with a trembling hand. He opened his mouth and—

Voldemort was quicker. He'd dropped his wand when he fell, but it was beside him and before Lucius could speak a curse, he grabbed his wand and swept his arm up. Lucius was thrown off his feet and tossed into a tree, crying out in agony, wand flying from his fingers as he crashed to the ground.

Harry didn't move. Voldemort stood, drawing himself up and turning his crimson gaze on Lucius, fury in his slitted eyes.

"You _dare_ try to attack _me_!"

Lucius gasped weakly.

"Your betrayal is worse than I could have imagined, Lucius. I thought so much better of you. _Crucio!_ "

Lucius screamed, writhing amidst the dirt, twigs, and grass. His right hand scrambled as if trying to grasp at something whilst his left flopped about limply, blood splashing from his wound. Harry was amazed he was even still alive, let along conscious, given how much blood he had to have lost by now.

With Voldemort distracted and Lucius' screams to disguise the noise of his moving, Harry carefully crawled over to his wand. He reattached it to the strap on his hip, got unsteadily to his feet, and aimed his wand between Voldemort's shoulder blades just as Voldemort stopped torturing Lucius.

There were a hundred ways to kill a man with magic. The Killing Curse was the most straight-forward, but it wasn't what Harry wanted. He did not want Voldemort to simply stop breathing, to fall at his feet as an empty corpse. He wanted Voldemort to feel it, to have time to see his death coming, to understand that he had not won.

"Hey, Voldemort," he said, and before the man even turned properly to face him, Harry slashed his wand from left to right and silently incanted, ' _Sectumsempra!_ '

Blood burst from Voldemort's throat, gushing down the front of his robes and spraying across Harry, who flinched at the feel of it but didn't step away. Voldemort staggered and lifted a hand to his throat, mouth opening but only a weak gargle coming out, wand slipping from his other hand as his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. His red eyes stared up at Harry, wide and disbelieving, and Harry stared back.

"Your turn to die."

Voldemort gave one last gurgle, toppled forwards, and was dead.

"HARRY!"

He looked away from Voldemort's body, turned, and was engulfed in a pair of arms, face pressed against a firm shoulder and the familiar scent of _home_ filling his nose.

"You're alive, you're alive, thank god you're alive. Are you hurt? Are you harmed? All I can smell is blood; is any of it yours?"

As Harry's face was still pressed to Lorna's shoulder, he couldn't answer her questions. He heard someone move past him and then Gabriel's voice said, "A pity that you are almost dead already. I wanted to kill you myself."

Lucius made a weak noise. Harry tugged himself free of Lorna and leapt over Voldemort's body to drop down beside Lucius, who was barely conscious, and stick his wand tip in the hole carved into Lucius' arm.

" _Eve ixae te mianu. Eve ixae te mianu. Eve ixae te mianu._ "

"Harry, what are you doing?"

He shook his head in response to his parents, unable to break his mantra. As he repeated the incantation, the flesh started to repair itself. It was far from ideal and he knew that it wouldn't be as adequate as proper healer's care, but with any luck it would keep Lucius from dying.

"I know you're angry," Harry said when the wound was less of a hole and more of a scraping that oozed slightly but was not bleeding badly. A wave of his wand conjured bandages that wrapped themselves around the entire arm. "I know he tricked me and kidnapped me, but he had good reason and you don't know the whole story and he doesn't deserve to die."

"Then ex-" Gabriel broke off, suddenly tense, gaze fixed on the space between the trees. Lorna was the same. "Someone's coming. Harry, stay back."

Harry couldn't help scowling at that. It was nice Gabriel was being protective, but when he'd just killed Lord Voldemort he felt he could handle himself well enough against whoever else was in the forest.

For a short while, his parents just stared out through the trees, ears perked for something Harry couldn't hear, and then just as whoever it was was close enough for Harry's ears to pick up the soft rustle of noise, Gabriel frowned, sniffed, and then said loudly, "Gareth Martin?"

The noise stopped. "I'm not a big fan of people who know my name when I don't know theirs," a familiar voice called back.

"Who are you with?"

"Who says I'm with anyone?"

"The same person who will make a delicacy of you if you do not identify the companion who's attempting to sneak around on my right."

"Ha! Gabriel Valentine. Figures. Give it up, Albus, we're not sneaking up on them. You won't attack if we approach, right?"

"If you don't."

"Oh good."

There was a lot of rustling, Gareth and Dumbledore no longer attempting to be quiet, and then the two men entered the clearing. Aside from Gareth's heavily bandaged hand, neither looked the worse for wear after traipsing through a forest except for a few stray leaves about their person. They both looked around the clearing, taking in everything and everyone there, and then Gareth dropped down beside Lucius to examine him. His arm slightly healed, Lucius was no longer on the brink of unconsciousness, but he was in no state to do anything more than lie there.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, focused on Voldemort, moving forwards to crouch and turn him onto his back.

"Who is that?" Lorna asked.

"Unless I am much mistaken, this _was_ Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said softly.

"I thought he was dead. That is, dead when he attempted to kill Harry thirteen years ago."

"He was only defeated. Rendered powerless and, last I saw of him, bodiless." He stood and went to the cauldron still sitting to one side, peering into it then looking around again. "A rebirthing ritual. Performed by Lucius, undoubtedly."

Gabriel snarled. Before Harry could stop him, he shoved Gareth aside with such force he was thrown six feet, then jerked up Lucius and buried his teeth into the man's neck. Lucius groaned and his hands fluttered weakly, but he made no attempt to fight him off.

"Dad, _no!_ "

Harry grabbed at Gabriel's arm. His human strength was useless at getting him to let go, but Gabriel at least stopped biting Lucius long enough to looked down at Harry, blood covered lips parted in surprise.

"Don't kill him, you don't understand!"

Lorna's hand settled on Harry's shoulders. "He kidnapped you and resurrected the man that tried to murder you as a babe, Harry. Undoubtedly he expected Voldemort to murder you now."

"No, that's... there's more to it!" He looked imploringly up at Gabriel. "Don't kill him, please."

Gabriel closed his mouth, licked his lips, and said, "You called me Dad."

Harry flushed but didn't look away. "Please."

Lucius' right hand came up and gripped weakly at Gabriel's shoulder, smearing blood on his white shirt. Gabriel looked at the hand as if it were a diseased flobberworm.

"K-kill... me," Lucius gasped. Despite his weakness, he still managed to fix his gaze on Gabriel's face with a surprisingly fierce expression. "Kill me... I want to see my son again..."

Gabriel dropped him, looking down uncaring as Lucius yelled in agony when he landed on his bad arm. "I'm not in the habit of fulfilling the whims of Malfoys."

He turned, put his arm around Lorna's waist and his other hand on Harry's shoulder, drawing them both over to a clearer patch away from Lucius, Voldemort, and Dumbledore, who watched them with his wand in hand.

"Are you hurt?" Gabriel asked Harry, voice softer now. Harry shook his head. He wouldn't mention the failed Killing Curse just yet. He'd wait until Lucius wasn't within reach of Gabriel's fangs.

"Really, I'm fine," he insisted when Gabriel looked sceptical. "None of this blood is mine."

"I presume you're responsible for the body over there."

Harry nodded.

"And Malfoy? Did you attack him?"

"No. He hurt himself as part of the potion that gave Voldemort a body again."

"I think," said Dumbledore loudly, clearly speaking to them, "that we should find somewhere more comfortable to hear Harry's explanation of the week's events."

"We?" Gabriel repeated coldly.

"Hang on, what do you mean the _week's_ events?" Harry demanded.

"It has been a week since you and Lucius vanished from Hogwarts," Dumbledore answered him, then said to Gabriel, "Yes, Lord Valentine. _We_. I want to know how one of my staff members kidnapped one of my students."

"He isn't one of your students anymore."

Harry started, looking between the two men. "What? Have I been expelled?" He paled. "Am I going to be arrested?"

"Don't be silly," Lorna said quickly. "What on earth would you be arrested for?"

"Er..." If they didn't know, he wasn't willing to telling them about his part in the Azkaban breakout, but then his gaze fell on Voldemort. "Murder."

"Your father and I will not allow anyone to arrest you for that, Harry."

"Good. But am I expelled then?"

"No, you're not," Dumbledore told him.

"I'm just not letting you go back to that school," Gabriel added.

" _What?!_ Why?"

"Because it cannot keep you safe. You've been tortured and kidnapped whilst in attendance. We can better protect you at home. We're not discussing it," he added when Harry opened his mouth to argue. Harry snapped his mouth shut, glowering. He wouldn't let this be the end of it; he wouldn't let his parents take him from Hogwarts.

Lorna drew Gabriel's attention. "Gabriel, there's no harm in letting the humans hear Harry's story," she said in a vampire whisper. "We can all return to Kastoria and hear what happened, then we'll send them on their way."

"You want me to invite them to our home?"

"No, I am telling you we are inviting them to our home. They are hardly a threat to us, Gabriel, and I want to know how they knew where to come so soon after us."

Gabriel's mouth tightened as he glanced at the three adult humans, gaze lingering on Lucius, who'd finally passed out, but finally he looked back and nodded stiffly.

"Professor Dumbledore, Mr Martin," Lorna said in normal tones, "we have a home in Kastoria that we can go to. We have a Portkey, if you wish to accompany us."

"I'm not leaving Lucius," Gareth said bluntly, looking up from where he was again crouched by the unconscious man. "Either he comes, or I stay."

"Then by all means stay," Gabriel told him.

"I think he needs a healer," Harry said. "We can't leave him here. Professor Martin might not get him to help in time."

"That would be no loss."

"I told you he doesn't deserve to die," Harry said, scowling. "And if it's really been a week then he has stuff to tell you, too, because I've been unconscious until tonight."

"We don't have a healer at home," Gabriel pointed out.

"You can summon one. Let him come, Dad."

It was the magic word. Gabriel made no more objections, even when Dumbledore said he wanted to bring Voldemort's body, too. He just threw up his hands in exasperation and dug the portkey tin from his pocket.

"You're sure you're alright?" Lorna asked Harry as Gareth prepped Lucius for transport and Dumbledore dragged Voldemort's body closer.

Harry smiled and gave her a quick hug. "Yeah, I'm fine now you and Dad are here... Mum."

She hugged him back, kissed his temple, and they gathered around the portkey. A minute later, the clearing was empty.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 _LUCIUS MALFOY ARRESTED_

The words took up the full front page of the _Daily Prophet_ the morning after Voldemort's death. Harry was back home in South Arlett and he read the accompanying article with a frown that evening. It told an altered story of what had happened in the past couple of weeks, saying Lucius had kidnapped Harry on the tenth of June, put him under the Imperius Curse to get his help breaking a fellow Death Eater out of Azkaban, and then both Death Eaters had taken Harry and attempted to sacrifice him in some dark ritual to resurrect Voldemort, which failed due to the timely rescue by the Valentines, Dumbledore, and Gareth. The other supposed Death Eater was said to have been killed in the process of retrieving Harry.

It was a fair enough story for the general public to know, but it bothered Harry that Lucius had accepted the full blame of the Azkaban breakout. Not so much that Harry was willing to confess his part in it—he had told only Gabriel and Lorna the full truth, and then only after they pressed him and said they knew his was lying—but he didn't know why Lucius did it, why he proclaimed full responsibility when, if the paper was to be believed, he was facing the Dementor's Kiss once he was put to trial.

The full truth had been laid bare the night before in Kastoria. Harry had sat between his parents on the largest sofa in the living room, freshly clean and dressed. His clothes were too small for him, ones left behind from their last visit to Greece two years ago, but it was better than blood soaked robes. Opposite, Dumbledore sat in an armchair, hands folded neatly in his lap, blue eyes watching Harry over the top of his half-moon glasses, a sharp contrast to where Gareth was sprawled in another armchair as if he never planned to get up again. Lucius was laid out on the chaise, pale but conscious and alert, his arm wrapped in bandages. A local healer had come and fixed Lucius' wound, saying it would heal with a scar but he wouldn't lose any movement in his hand. They inspected Gareth's blood quill-damaged hand as well, bandaging it properly but saying it had caused permanent damage to his tendons; Gareth hadn't seemed too bothered.

For the most part, only Harry and Lucius spoke. Harry was the first to mention the Horcruxes, but only when Dumbledore expressed scepticism that Voldemort would make only two—the diary and Harry—did Lucius reluctantly explain how he found all six, and confess to lying to Harry about how he had become one. Lorna hugged Harry tightly at the news and Gabriel got up and left the room for several minutes. When he came back, he asked, "How do we get it out?"

"It's already out," Harry told him. "It died when Voldemort tried to kill me."

"What do you mean?"

"He used the Killing Curse on me, and it killed the part of his soul in me instead."

"Without killing you?"

Harry hesitated. "Yes. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Lorna repeated with a faint smile. "Harry, sweetie, you're human. Either you're dead or you're alive, and you're very obviously alive."

"I know, but the curse did do _something_. It knocked me out for a minute."

"Less," Lucius murmured without looking over. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling and had been since he was laid there. "No more than half a minute."

" _How?_ " Gabriel and Lorna both asked.

"I think because of my mum. My first mum," Harry amended and went on to explain what Voldemort had said about her sacrifice and then everything he surmised from what Snape told him in the dream world, or wherever that crossroads was, and then ending, "But I don't know if that's right because I think it was all in my head and not real."

He didn't mention the hellhounds that he'd seen. He didn't dare to hope that, having nearly died and survived, it would somehow void the terms of his contract. He just considered himself lucky not to have been dragged to hell already.

Dumbledore made a soft noise and when Harry glanced at him, the man was smiling. "Just because something is inside your head doesn't mean it's not real," Dumbledore said. "Your theories are correct, except in one part, I think. You survived not because your mother's protection remained in you, but because it was in Voldemort."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Your blood in his veins, put there during the resurrection ritual. It created a bond, a connection, tethering you so that as long as he lived, you lived."

" _For neither can live while the other survives..._ " Harry murmured. "The prophecy. But what about the part of him inside me? Why did that die and not me if he was keeping me alive? Severus said that Voldemort tried to kill my body, not my soul, so why did his piece of soul die if my body didn't?"

"Did you fight it?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fight what?"

"The Killing Curse. When you realised Voldemort would kill you, did you fight or try to flee?"

"No. I knew there was no point and I didn't want to die a coward, so I spat at him and stared him down."

"And that, I'd wager, made all the difference. You—your soul—accepted your death. The part of him in you did not, and so it died—or rather, moved on, as Severus explained."

"I don't understand," Harry said, frowning.

"Acceptance of death," Gabriel said, prompting Harry to look at him. "When a vampire is made, the transition is always easier for those who have accepted their death—truly accepted it. There are those who say they do, but in truth they think the change is like catching a bad cold—a malady that may be unpleasant but which they will come through unchanged—and so when their body dies they fight it, which makes the transition harder. Those who understand that to become a vampire means to die as a human find the change much less difficult, less painful, because they do not fight what happens to them. In accepting death, our body and soul prepares for it as much as our mind."

When Harry's confusion didn't ease, Lorna simplified: "Your soul was so ready to die it laid down and did such a good job of looking dead that the Killing Curse missed completely and hit Voldemort's piece of soul instead."

Dumbledore frowned at such a simplified explanation, but Gareth grinned and Harry thought it made sense. He went on to explain what happened after the failed Killing Curse, which didn't take long, and when Dumbledore said he was unfamiliar with the Sectumsempra Curse that Harry used Gareth spoke for the first time.

"Severus invented it. High powered cutting curse, in essence. Designed more for living flesh."

Dumbledore didn't look pleased to discover his previous Potions Master had invented such a dark curse, but Harry was suddenly glad he'd chosen that particular spell to use against Voldemort. He thought Snape would appreciate him using Snape's own curse to kill Voldemort.

"Severus taught you this spell?" Dumbledore asked Harry, frowning.

"No," Harry said truthfully, aware that it wouldn't be well accepted if he told the headmaster that Snape taught him dark magic as a child, "I just found it somewhere."

"Where?"

Harry hesitated. Gareth came to his rescue. "Severus' old _Advanced Potion-Making_ textbook, I'm guessing. He was always scribbling spells in that old thing and it was among the stuff he left for Harry in his will. Am I right?"

Grateful for the help, Harry nodded, although he'd never even seen the aforementioned book. Dumbledore's attention was averted.

"You mean to tell me Severus invented that curse when he was a teenager?"

"Among others. He was quite the spell master. Now that Harry's story is done," Gareth went on without giving Dumbledore chance to ask more, "I think we've overstayed our welcome at the Valentine home."

"Not yet, Mr Martin," Lorna said when Gareth made to stand. "How did you and Professor Dumbledore know where to come tonight?"

"Locator spell," Gareth answered simply. "Blood based, using Harry's aunt's blood. It's been inactive for the past week, but began to work this evening, presumably when Lucius transfigured Harry back to human."

"I don't have an aunt," Harry said sullenly.

"You might not accept her, nor she you, but you're related by blood and that's enough for the spell. Anything else, Lady Valentine?"

Lorna shook her head. "Gabriel?"

"No. Kindly leave, gentlemen, so my wife and I can return home with our son."

They had left then, Dumbledore escorting Lucius to Hogwarts so he could be arrested, and the Valentines had returned home by Portkey. Harry had told his story all over again to a relieved Tori, reassuring her and Jennifer and even his parents once more that he was fine, that he'd come out of the whole ordeal much better than either Lucius or Voldemort, and then finally, around dawn, he was able to go to bed and rest. He woke around five that evening and it was only then that he noticed he hadn't come out of his ordeal completely unchanged.

"My legs don't hurt," he told his parents when he got down to the family room, where Tori and Jennifer were eating pizza in front of the TV. Although only just woken, Harry figured pizza was good enough for his first real meal in a week and helped himself to a slice. "I haven't had my potion in over a week, but my legs don't hurt and I don't feel sick like I did that time last year when I stopped taking it."

"The pain must have abated since you last went without," Gabriel said. "Possibly the blood I gave you this past winter helped your injuries to heal more than normal magic could do."

"Your time spent transfigured probably put you through the withdrawal," Lorna added. "Perhaps we should bring it to the attention of healers as a method of treatment for drug addicts."

Harry smiled, ate, and read the paper. He spent that night and the following day relaxing, happy just to enjoy the company of his family once again. For the first time since he'd moved in with them, they didn't leave the country for the summer.

But after a day or so, he focused his attention on convincing his parents to let him back to Hogwarts in September. He got Tori on his side, because they wouldn't let her back either, and together they begged, pleaded, wheedled, and eventually, through sheer determination and refusal to stop going on about it, they changed their parents' minds.

* * *

Gareth Martin had a reputation as a player. He was well known in several London Muggle nightclubs, where the bartenders had no qualms about palming a tenner and pointing out which of the night's party goers were looking for a no-strings-attached hook up that he could try his luck with. He was more well-known in the wizarding nightclubs, due to there being far less of them and oft frequented by a more regular crowd, where the bartenders preferred to warn lonely hearts against him. The success of their warnings generally depended on how lonely the patron was, how much they'd had to drink, and how attractive they found Gareth.

But wherever he went, he rarely went home alone for the night unless he wanted to.

On the night of twenty-first June, he left a Muggle bar with a woman who promised him a wild night, only for them both to get ambushed just as they left the underground. Neither heard their ambushers coming, nor saw them, attention fixed on each other. One moment they were stepping out onto the street, the next they were both grabbed by things stronger and faster than them, cloths pressed over their mouths and the sweet scent of chloroform filling their noses. The woman was out in moments, startled into taking a large breath just as the cloth covered her mouth and struggling uselessly in the few seconds it took the drug to take effect.

But Gareth, although taking one initial breath, was familiar enough with the scent to then hold his breath and go lax in the arms of whoever held him, feigning unconsciousness—at least until someone said, "Cuff him, he's dangerous," and a second person took his hands and started strapping metal shackles about his wrists. At that, he lashed out with his leg, slamming a foot into someone's shin then quickly following up with a knee to their groin, missing as the person darted backwards. They did so without letting go of his wrists and next moment they clenched their hands with supernatural strength and his bones snapped. The pain of it made him cry out, the noise muffled by the cloth, and he inhaled the drug. His mind swum, his limbs tingled, and then everything went black.

* * *

Gabriel stared at the man slouched on the floor of his holding cell, holding the man's chin firmly in hand so he could look his face over. Gareth sat with his hands bound above his head by metal shackles that were etched with runes that restrained a person's magic, rendering them powerless even with a wand.

It also stripped away glamours and transfigurations cast on one's self, which explained why Gareth's long hair was now jet black instead of red and his eyes green instead of brown. It didn't explain the scar on his forehead.

"How is this possible?" Gabriel murmured, staring into the green eyes that glared back with enough hatred a lesser man would flinch away. Gareth tried to jerk away when Gabriel lifted his other hand to push black hair away from his forehead, but Gabriel's grip on his chin was too tight, holding him still. "Answer me. How is this possible?"

"Bite me, beefeater," Gareth snarled.

"Don't tempt me, Mr Martin. Answer my question."

"No."

Gabriel let go of his chin, wrapped his fingers around Gareth's ankle, and squeezed until bones snapped. "We did you the courtesy of fixing your wrists," he said calmly, still squeezing while Gareth fought not to scream. "I will break them again and I will do the same with every other bone in your body. Answer my question."

Gareth said nothing. Gabriel's grip tightened, a resounding _crack_ echoed through the room, and Gareth screamed.

"Answer my question."

Gareth laughed, the noise breathless, and lifted his eyes to meet Gabriel's stare with a slight smile. "You can break every bone in my body a thousand times over. There is nothing in this universe that will make me answer your question."

Gabriel's fingers tightened briefly on his ankle then let go. "Yes, there is. Lorna."

He looked around and lifted his hand. Lorna, never taking her gaze off Gareth, stepped forward and placed a knife on his palm, but didn't let go of it. "Gabriel, are you sure about this?" she asked in a vampire whisper. "He's..."

"He's our best chance at keeping our children safe," he replied, just as quiet, "and not what he appears, I'd wager."

She hesitated a moment longer then let go of the knife. Gareth watched them, gaze narrowed, but when Lorna withdrew a small, leather bound book whilst Gabriel shifted and sliced the knife across Gareth's palm and then across his own, his eyes widened and he cried out. "No!"

Gabriel grasped their hands together and it was like a mad thing possessed Gareth. He thrashed desperately, hand clenching and unclenching in Gabriel's as he struggled to pull away even with his wrists bound to the wall. His whole body writhed, unbroken foot kicking out at Gabriel, angry tears filling his eyes, and he screamed obscenities as Gabriel began chanting the Latin incantation that would bind their souls together.

But halfway through, a flash like lightning crashed through the room and Gabriel was thrown violently away, slamming into the far wall with a grunt. Lorna rushed to his side, checking he was unharmed, then they both look at Gareth, who'd stopped thrashing and sat panting, blinking away the tears in his eyes as he glared at Gabriel between long strands of dark hair.

"You will not have me."

Gabriel looked at his hand, where the cut was already healing, and clenched his fingers, frowning. "What went wrong? Did I say it incorrectly?" he asked Lorna, who shook her head. "Then why didn't it work?"

They looked at Gareth. Gabriel got to his feet, approaching. "It's something to do with you."

"Is it?" Gareth said dismissively. "What a pity."

"You know what went wrong."

"Maybe you shouldn't suppress my magic," he suggested. Gabriel considered it, frowning, but shook his head.

"This magic was designed for Muggles; you being powerless wouldn't affect it like that."

"Sure about that? Things designed for Muggles do tend to affect wizards differently. Why not give it a go without these shackles on me?"

"No. You're a dangerous man, Mr Martin. The shackles remain."

"Dangerous?" Gareth scoffed, smiling incredulously. "To you? In a locked room, without a wand? What danger can I possibly be?"

"I think you can be very dangerous. You maintain a permanent glamour over your features and you're apt at wandless magic."

"Where on earth would you get that idea?"

Gabriel's lips curled and Gareth's own smile faded. "Because we took no wand off you tonight."

"I was out with Muggles, I left it at home."

"No, I think you just don't have one. I think you use a very subtle spell to make people think you use one. It's very clever," Gabriel remarked, twirling the knife he still held. "Nothing that even an alert wizard would notice, just a little nudge, because other wizards _expect_ you to carry a wand. They think only the most powerful wizards can do spell magic wandlessly, and they don't expect that from an average-seeming man like yourself."

"That's insulting," Gareth said, aiming for a cool tone but failing to mask a slight tremor in his voice. "I'm by no means average."

"Oh, I quite agree. I think you're a far cry from average, and that's what makes you so dangerous. So much so that you don't need a wand at all, and you just weave a little subtle magic that plays on people's expectations so their mind fills in the blanks when they see you do magic."

"That's a nice story."

"Gabriel," Lorna said, cutting him off from replying. She had the book open in her hands but she looked up to meet his gaze when he turned to her. "I think I know what went wrong." She lowered her voice to a vampire whisper. "We need to kill Terrence Higgs."

Gabriel took the book from her, reading over the page it was opened on. "Why?"

"Because I think he's right that being a wizard affects it differently. I think you can only have one at a time. Either you let someone else take the Bond, or we kill him; it says it's impossible to break the connection."

He considered it, looking from the book to Gareth, frowning heavily, and eventually saying to Lorna, "You will have to kill him." At her surprised look, he added in a tone of faint embarrassment, "I don't think I can bring myself to do it. The Bond between us... it affects me, too."

It was why he'd kept Higgs in the manor longer than originally planned. The boy had been nothing more than a test subject, a way for Gabriel to find out if he could use the Animancupium Bond as a vampire, but he'd never intended to keep Higgs around any longer than it took to discover that. As time went on, though, he'd found himself unwilling to send him away or kill him, but he couldn't let someone else take the Bond. The only person he trusted not to use Higgs against him in some way was Lorna—he couldn't risk people finding out that he was performing ancient dark magic on humans—but because she had been a Muggle whilst human, the Animancupium Bond would not work with her as a Master, just as it left her unable to use the vampire seduction.

She nodded in understanding. "Then I will do it. I'll be back soon."

She kissed him and turned away, slipping out the room. Gareth watched her go with narrowed eyes then spoke to Gabriel.

"You can't have me."

Gabriel said nothing.

"I'm owned. You can't have me."

"I am not above stealing from another person."

Gareth's face twisted with anger. "It won't work. It already failed. You can't have me!"

"We shall see," Gabriel said, then dropped his knife and staggered, one hand going to his chest, gasping. He felt like someone had just torn out some vital part of him. He lurched up the stairs, fumbling open the door at the top and staggering into the corridor beyond, down to one of the other doors and throwing it open. Inside was a dimly lit room filled with low seating—pillows and cushions, bean bags and pouffes—with several nest vampires lounging around, feeding on the few humans also there or just relaxing.

The soft murmur of noise dropped when they saw him, straightening up from their seats when they noticed his hunched stance, but Gabriel's gaze was fixed in the far corner, where Lorna was just laying down the prone form of Terrence Higgs. She looked around, licking blood from her lips, then hurried over at seeing him.

"Gabriel? Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said quietly. He didn't take his eyes off the dead human. One hand was still clutched to his chest. "I felt it, that's all. I didn't expect..."

Suddenly aware he was being watched by several of his nest mates, he straightened up and dropped his hand, glancing around at them. "Dispose of the body," he said to no one in particular, knowing they would sort it out between themselves.

He tried to avoid too many deaths in the house, to avoid bringing attention from the Ministry or rogue vampire hunters, but they had protocols in place for it, whether it meant moving the body to another location and getting rid of any evidence of _who_ killed them, or just disposing of the remains so the person disappeared with no one the wiser. That would be the case with this: Higgs' parents believed he was in Europe, so any searches for him would begin there and no suspicion would fall on Gabriel or his nest.

He spun on his heel and stalked away, but stopped again in the corridor, hearing Lorna shut the door and come up beside him.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded, but pulled her into a hug and clung tightly, pressing his face to her shoulder as her arms wrapped around him. They remained that way for a long minute before he pulled away just enough to kiss her, long, slow, and deep, and then drew back further.

"Let's get on with it."

She nodded, kissing him once more then taking his hand and accompanying him back down to the dungeon room. Gareth was now stretched out, trying to pull the knife to him with his unbroken foot. He just reached it when they stepped in, but before he could draw it near Lorna darted forward and snatched it up, and he gave a wordless cry of anger.

Lorna handed the knife over, picked up the dropped book, and Gabriel once again set to performing the ritual. Gareth thrashed and screamed again, insisting over and over that they wouldn't take him, but there was no burst of lightning and when the two ribbons of light—one blood red, one silver with a streak of black—burst out from their joined hands to wrap around their arms, he slumped against the wall, sobbing.

The light faded and Gabriel let go and stood, backing to stand beside Lorna again as his hand healed. Gareth's did the same, the vampire blood prompting it to seal to the point of scar tissue. He stopped sobbing, sniffed a few times, and lifted his gaze to meet Gabriel's.

"What now?" he asked, no anger or false confidence in his voice now, but nor was there any of the submissive respect that Terrence Higgs had shown.

"Now you will answer our questions."

"Will I?"

"You have no choice."

"... eh... maybe..."

Lorna and Gabriel exchanged a glance then Lorna said, "There's no 'maybe' about it, Mr Martin. You're bound to obey Gabriel's orders now."

"Yes, but I am also still under compulsion to obey those of my last Master."

Lorna frowned, but Gabriel smiled. "You are released from all the orders your previous Master gave you."

Gareth groaned with the same kind of relief as a person who just found a bathroom after several hours of trying not to soil themselves. He slumped against the wall, every single muscle relaxing, and smiled up at Gabriel.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that."

"Who was your last Master?"

"I should tell you the rest of my story before I answer that."

"Are you disobeying me?"

"I'm delaying. There's a difference. Seriously though, you'll want to hear everything else I have to say first."

"Then tell me."

"Alright, but you might want to get comfy. It's a long one."

* * *

 **Another Universe  
Hogsmeade, 1st May 1998**

Seventeen year old Harry hurried through the village, swaddled in black robes and a black cloak, not so much as glancing at the handful of villagers who veered away from him as if he carried the plague. In the dying light of sunset, he half ran to the base of the mountain overlooking the village where he paused to look around, green eyes peering through the dark for anyone that might be watching him, but only the setting sun and the already risen half-moon looked upon him.

He turned his gaze upwards and, without a word or flick of his wand, he levitated upwards and rose rapidly alongside the mountain face, slowing only when he was some quarter of a mile off the ground. The dark shadow of a cave was just visible in the mountainside and he flew into it, settling down on the stone floor.

A flick of his hand conjured a small fire at the back of the cave, giving him enough light to see by without shining brightly out the entrance and revealing his location. Removing his cloak revealed a face unmarked by scars, except the famous lightning bolt on his forehead, and he knelt near the fire to withdraw from his robe pockets several candles, a knife, a book, and two photographs. In the heat of the flames, he wiped a hand across his brow and rolled up his sleeves. Standing out starkly on his pale left arm was the Dark Mark.

He opened the book to a dog-eared page, examined the diagram spread across the left page, a circle containing a nine-pointed star and a dozen different sigils, then he took up the knife and cut a deep line across his forearm, next to the black tattoo. Before the blood could drip down to the floor, he swiped a finger through it and proceeded to copy the diagram from the book, painting it onto the stone floor with his own blood, careful not to let it drip anywhere else on the floor.

When it was done, he conjured bandages with another flick of his hand, letting them wrap themselves around his wound whilst he placed candles at the nine points of the star and lit them. That done, he returned to his supplies and picked up the two photos.

One showed himself as little more than five years old, giggling childishly as he sat on the shoulders of Severus Snape—of his father—who was smiling as well, at least until little Harry tugged on his hair a little too hard and he grimaced instead. The real Harry smiled at it, but the expression was bitter with sadness, a smile far removed from the careless joy shown by the figures in the photo.

In the second image, his photo self was eleven years old, standing on the steps of a large, grey manor, dressed in neat black robes with the Hogwarts crest on the left breast. Beside him was a similarly clad Draco Malfoy and both boys had expressions of supercilious pride, until Harry said something and they both grinned, relaxing and looking like real eleven year olds instead of two children trying to be adults.

The real Harry took a shuddering breath, kissed each photo, then set them aside and looked to the book again, this time reading over the ritual words written on the right page. He already had them memorised; he'd read it over a hundred times in the past few months, etching the words and the image in his mind, but he couldn't help looking it over one last time before he stood and moved to stand in the centre of the circle of blood. Spreading his arms, he took a deep breath, and began to speak.

" _Leathon et muchry, na liet porjoun te richlieh mar._ "

As he spoke, the blood boiled, coils of steam rising to surround his feet in pink mist. White sparks sprung from the ground to dart around in the space of the star like bouncing balls on fire. He watched it all with a wary eye, but didn't stop speaking.

" _Mar liet nienhu, fahlion joquiesit, te bienton hurchru, sadelion griatli de miet._ "

The steam rose higher, the blood boiling still even though it should all have long evaporated, and the sparks bounced faster, leaving scorch marks at every point they hit the ground.

" _De jetun de hurchru, michon harru barchry, vichron nu bienton._ "

The steam was so high and thick now that he couldn't even see the walls of the cave around him. The sparks leapt so fast they were little more than darts of light whizzing past his legs.

" _Craivien liet cahchru, et muchry et leathon, de mahter sietne._ "

Pink mist enveloped him, sparks lashed against his body, he cried out, and—

He woke up. It took a minute to realise this was true because it was pitch black. He sat up with a groan and relit the fire, looking around. When he saw himself still surrounded by the familiar cave walls, he cried out in anger, slamming his fists against the floor and screaming his fury into the rocks, the noise echoing around him. It hadn't worked.

Only when the last vestiges of his own screams died away did he realise that although it hadn't done what he expected, the ritual had done _something_ —the blood was gone, and so were the candles, book, knife, cloak, and photos. The photos bothered him more than anything else and he darted around the cave in search of them then outside to see if they'd been swept out. But they weren't on the small section of rock beyond the cave and he had to assume they'd been swept out into the night, yet when he held out his hand and summoned them, nothing returned.

He frowned and tried again, but still nothing. He looked at his hand, pale in the light of the full moon, and—

He jerked his head up, staring at the glowing orb in the sky. A _full_ moon? He could understand it being completely dark by now, but the moon had been only half full when he left the castle. The temperature had dropped drastically as well. Before it had been a cool summer's eve; now it was bitterly cold and he could see frost on the side of the rocks and the tops of the trees below.

His gaze lowered to the village, but if there was anything different about it, he couldn't see from this distance. Sweeping his gaze over the empty cave, he levitated himself down to the base of the mountain and walked quickly up the street. When he reached the village proper, it was just as dark and closed up as usual, but he saw differences. Shops that stood empty when he walked through earlier now showed signs of being occupied.

"Excuse me! Student!"

He turned. Two people had just left the Three Broomsticks, both familiar to him, but one making his jaw drop and his eyes widen as he watched them approach.

"Oh," said the woman when they got closer. "I apologise, Mister Snape, I thought... wait, you're not Severus, are you?"

Harry didn't look at her, still gaping at the man beside her. He closed his mouth, swallowed thickly, and croaked, "Dumbledore."

"I am," he said without smiling. "And who might you be, young man? You're wear Hogwarts robes, but I don't think I know you, though Minerva is right that you bare a striking resemblance to Severus Snape."

Harry bristled, straightening his back and lifting his chin. "I should hope so," he said sharply. "I'm—" He stopped, thought furiously for a minute, then asked, "What's the date?"

The two teachers exchanged glances, clearly concerned about him, but Dumbledore answered, "The fifth of November."

" _What?!_ " he shrieked, startling McGonagall. "What year?"

Dumbledore looked openly worried about him now. "Nineteen seventy-nine. Young man, are you alright?"

But Harry wasn't listening. His spell _had_ worked. Not how he expected, true; he'd attempted to send his consciousness back to the body of his childhood self. But this was good enough. He could still change things. He could still stop the world turning dark, save himself, and, most importantly, save his family.

* * *

 **This Universe**  
 **Valentine Manor**

"So... you're our son?" Lorna asked, frowning.

"No."

"Explain."

"I didn't just travel in time," Gareth told them. He still sat with his wrists bound, the two vampire sitting cross-legged opposite him. "I jumped dimensions. All the people I knew, all the people you know, they all existed in that new timeline, but they weren't the same. Similar in many ways, but not the very same. And it had its own Harry, a Harry that wasn't me because he didn't have my life."

" _That_ timeline? Not _this_ — _that_."

Gareth nodded. "It was just the first one. I'm stuck in a time loop."

"You can't break it?"

"I'm still working on that."

"So you relive your life over and over again?"

"I wouldn't put it that way. My life carries on in a straight line, it just carries on in a straight line over the same nineteen year period."

"That's how long your loop is?"

Gareth nodded again. "Fifth of November seventy-nine to the first of May ninety-eight. Unless I die, of course, in which case I get to start over early."

"You've died before? How many times have you been through this loop?"

He shrugged. "Fifty, sixty, maybe. Struggling to keep count by this point. It's been a long time."

"You don't die of old age?"

"No. Every time my loop restarts my body is seventeen years old again. I don't grow older than thirty-six."

Gabriel finally spoke up. "The day we first met. You said you were a vampire in a past life."

"I wasn't lying."

"Then Mirella Prince...?"

"Also true. I've never lied to you, Lord Valentine."

"You've lied about who you are, your past—your whole life."

"Through no fault of my own," Gareth retorted. "I've been as honest as I can be whilst obeying the orders put to me. My previous Master didn't like what I am. He didn't think I should interfere with the worlds I ended up in. Yeah," he said when Gabriel and Lorna's eyes flicked to the left hand he now struggled to use after the abuse it'd suffered. "As well as forbidding me from telling anyone my story, he ordered that any time I felt the urge to interfere with something that I already knew about, I would instead write with a blood quill. It curbed all but my strongest urges to help, and when I really wanted to I could fight the compulsion enough to interfere as long as I was still writing."

"Then you knew that Lucius Malfoy would kidnap my son," Gabriel said in a voice like ice.

"No," Gareth said quickly. "No, I didn't know that. But when I learnt they were in Albania, the last place Voldemort was seen, I knew that he would try to kill Voldemort. That's why I wrote as I went looking for them. I knew he'd resurrect Voldemort, I knew how he'd do it, and I knew Voldemort would try to kill Harry. And I knew Harry could survive."

Gabriel wasn't appeased. "Who was your last Master?"

"They're not the same," Gareth said instead of answering, staring hard at Gabriel. "You have to understand that. The people in the timelines— _they're not the same_."

Lorna leant forwards. "You mean to tell us the Master you had before is a crueller person than his... his counterpart... that we know?"

Gareth nodded urgently. "Yes. You need to understand that."

"Why should I believe such a thing?" Gabriel scoffed. "Someone who'd abuse a man in such a way cannot change across timelines."

"What age do kids stop being kids?" Gareth asked, startling them with the abrupt change of subject. "At what age do you permit yourself to feed on them, to kill them, to turn them?"

Frowning, but understanding that Gareth was trying to make a point, Gabriel answered, "No younger than seventeen to feed or kill; twenty-one to turn."

Gareth nodded grimly. "I've met Gabriel Valentines that would feed on or kill people as young as thirteen. I've seen him turn seventeen year olds." He paused, eying the shock evident on Gabriel's face, then added lowly, "I've seen him turn a Harry at seventeen."

Gabriel physically recoiled. "I refuse!" he snarled.

" _You_ might. They didn't."

"How do we know you're not lying?" Lorna demanded.

"Don't you?" Gareth asked. "Vampires are very good at detecting lies. You can hear our hearts race and see the tiny twitches that give us away. Do you think I'm lying?"

They both watched him, eying him as he slouched against the wall, as relaxed as he could be on a hard stone floor with his hands bound overhead and his broken ankle still throbbing with pain.

"No," Gabriel said eventually, voice soft. "I don't think you're lying. Very well, I will refrain from slaughtering the counterpart to your last Master. Who was it?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

Gabriel absorbed this, turned to Lorna, and was silenced by a sharp noise before he could even speak.

"No, Gabriel. We're not forbidding them from returning to school. We've already told them they can return; we're not turning back on our word."

Gabriel wasn't impressed, but he turned back to Gareth. "Tell me about you. You're not our Harry. You're not even close."

"Ah..." Gareth sighed. "Yeah, I'm really not. Uh, first off I really have to tell you something about him. Us. Something he doesn't know. James Potter wasn't his birth father, Severus Snape was. James adopted him after he was born—full magical adoption, blood ritual and all."

"Why has he never been told?" Lorna asked, shocked.

"Severus never wanted to. He and Lily had a one night affair that they both knew was wrong, and when Severus found out he was Harry's father he performed a disownment ritual. He knew he could never raise him, and shouldn't when Harry had Lily and James to look after him. They might have told Harry when he grew up, but then they were killed and he was sent to the Dursleys."

Gabriel's anger was back again. "From where Severus Snape could have taken him. Why didn't he?"

"Because he was a spy working against the Death Eaters," Gareth told him simply. "After Voldemort fell, Severus was arrested and put to trial and only let out because Dumbledore vouched for him as a spy. But there were other Death Eaters roaming free that would have attacked Severus for taking Harry in, and attacked Harry in the process. Harry was safe with the Dursleys."

"Safe—!"

"Yes, safe," Gareth said, a tad sharply now. "Unhappy, perhaps, but safe from Death Eaters and Voldemort. A few weeks every summer was the most Severus could safely take him for, and even that little presence in Harry's life had a greater effect than you know. Vernon Dursley can be a cruel and viciously violent man. The fear Harry felt the night he killed him—that was well justified because I have seen Vernon Dursley kill Harry before. The life your Harry had there was a good deal better than a lot of other Harrys."

Gabriel shook with suppressed anger now and even Lorna's hand on his arm didn't soothe him any.

"And you?" Gabriel asked tersely. "What was your Vernon Dursley like?"

"Violent, but I was fortunate enough to only be with him a couple of years. My Severus—my dad—he took me in after my mum and James were killed by Voldemort."

"Then Severus—"

"Not. The. Same," Gareth interrupted. "Different people and different choices. Don't resent a dead man for the things he didn't do, my lord. Your Harry is safe, happy, and got through his time at the Dursleys just fine. My Severus might have taken me in, but he died when I was six and I still ended up with the Dursleys, but I didn't have anyone to scare my uncle into not trying to smack the magic out of me."

Gabriel was too angry to speak, so Lorna asked, "How did your Severus die? Not a werewolf; you haven't the scars that Harry does."

"Potions accident."

"Then you were sent to the Dursleys, but you only spent two years with them? Did we—"

Gareth was already shaking his head. "I spent a lot of my childhood playing with Draco Malfoy. After my dad died, Lucius fought to get custody of me, and eventually did a full blood adoption."

Lorna turned angry then. "You're a Malfoy?"

"In part. Why does that bother you?"

"Don't you know?" she asked snidely.

He looked a little sheepish, glancing between them. As Lorna's anger grew, some of Gabriel's faded. He took her hands in his, drawing her attention even as Gareth said, "Uh, no. Actually, I've never met you before."

Two pairs of eyes snapped to him. "You've never met my wife?" Gabriel said. "You said you've known me before."

"I have. But of all the timelines when I've known you, you weren't married to Lady Lorna."

"But she's my wife," Gabriel said, like he couldn't fathom it being any other way.

"Yes, but other Lornas were not other Gabriels wives. You might have been married to her in times when I never met you," Gareth added. "It's not like I meet all the same people in all the timelines. It depends on what I do and where I go."

"What do you mean?" Lorna asked, still tense.

"I've seen the same twenty years over fifty times. I don't always take up a position at Hogwarts, or stay involved with the other Harrys, or even stay in England. Last time around I hopped it to Vegas, robbed a bank, and spent twenty years gambling and have lots of sex. It's been four timelines since the Dumbledore that Bound me and it was easier on me to not hang around with those orders on me, so this is the first time since then I've stuck around in the Harry's life."

"Aren't you trying to change things?"

"Change what? How Harry grows up? Who lives and who dies? The war against Voldemort?" he suggested. "Alright, well change them how? Change it from how things were in my original timeline? Because I've seen that happen. Change it from yours? Seen that. Change it to the perfect outcome? Gladly, if I can figure out what the perfect outcome is."

He sighed, shifting and then grimacing. The shackles chafed on his wrists, the stone floor wasn't comfortable, and his ankle grew more painful with every passing minute.

"I've seen a lot of things happen, Lord and Lady Valentine. There are some things I can change, and some things I can't, and some things will change with or without my input. If I don't break my loop, I'm going to go insane. Sometimes I think my sanity is already slipping. I can stave off that moment by venturing beyond the small world of my counterparts. Can you let me out of these things now, please?"

Gabriel glanced at the shackles then shook his head. "I'm not sure I trust you yet."

A sullen look came over Gareth's face. "You're my Master. I wouldn't attack you."

"You weren't happy about becoming my Slave," Gabriel pointed out, to which Gareth rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh. I was still Bound to my last one, my loyalty was all to him. I belong to you now. My loyalty is all to you. That's how it works. If someone else tried to use that ritual, I would fight them as much as I fought you."

Gabriel didn't respond to this. "Tell me about your childhood with the Malfoys."

Sighing irritably, Gareth answered. "It was a childhood. It was good. They did a full blood adoption ritual and they treated me as if I was their born child." He paused, lowered his voice, and said a little unhappily, "They treated me better."

"A Malfoy neglecting their child," Lorna scoffed. "Why am I not—"

"They didn't—" Gareth interrupted harshly, then cut himself off. "Alright, they did, a bit. Lucius did. They loved Draco, but Lucius just... he was just a bit ruthless, that's all. Ruthless, power hungry, and keen to get his wife back. Narcissa was imprisoned for performing abortions, just like this timeline," he explained at their questioning looks, "and you're right about me—I am immensely skilled and powerful, and I always have been. How did you know, anyway? I was sure my spells worked against vampires."

"Not when they're feeding on you," Gabriel noted.

"Oh, right, when I threw you off. I'll remember that in future. You didn't notice the glamour?"

"I had my teeth in your throat; I can't say my attention was on the colour of your hair."

"Fair enough. Anyway, Lucius got it into his head that he could train me up to free Narcissa, so he focused a lot of attention on me after she was arrested. And he... maybe expected Draco to somehow automatically learn things that Lucius felt it necessary to teach me."

"Such as?" Gabriel asked.

Gareth hesitated to answer, but admitted, "Pureblood ideals. Hatred of Muggles, Muggleborns, and part-human creatures."

"People like us."

"Yes."

Lorna had a different issue. "Your mother was Muggleborn. He taught you to hate her?"

"He taught me to be ashamed of my heritage, to put more worth in what I gained from his and Narcissa's blood than from Lily's. It's not something I believe any more, you can trust me on that. I've had a long time to unlearn everything he taught me."

"And did you free his wife from Azkaban?"

"Eventually... as well as her sister, and a dozen other loyal Death Eaters."

" _Why?_ " Lorna gasped, but Gabriel got up and approached, pushing back Gareth's left shirt sleeve to bare the Dark Mark on his arm, the ink faint, just barely visible.

"You're a Death Eater."

"I was a Death Eater," Gareth amended, and added defensively, "I was raised by one through my vital years of development. Lucius groomed me into believing everything he did, into believing everything Voldemort did. I was just a kid, I didn't know any better until it was too late."

"When was it too late?" Gabriel asked, jerking his sleeve back over the mark and stalking back to Lorna. "How many timelines did it take you to realise Voldemort was a monster?"

Gareth's voice was cold as ice in response. "None. I realised it when I was fourteen and he forced me to kill my brother."

Lorna looked startled. "Your brother?"

"Draco. We played together our whole lives; I considered him a brother even before I was adopted."

"Why did Voldemort make you kill him?"

Gareth turned his head away as he answered, clearly unhappy to talk of such things. "Voldemort didn't trust that I was as indoctrinated into his beliefs as Lucius claimed. He ordered Lucius to Bind me in the Animancupium ritual so I would be forced to obey his orders. It was put on me just after my fourteenth birthday. Voldemort would probably have Bound me himself if he hadn't split his soul, but Lucius' first and primary order was that I was to obey every order Voldemort gave me.

"But because of all the attention Lucius gave me, Draco had drifted away. He grew resentful and when we got to Hogwarts, Dumbledore noticed and took the opportunity to get close to him. He knew Draco would give him a vital insight into me and my life, so he lavished Draco with all the attention and praise that Draco wanted from Lucius. Maybe it was karma, but the more I turned to the dark side, the more Draco turned to the light. By the time we were fourteen, Draco was loyal as all hell to Dumbledore, and I had sworn myself to Voldemort."

"He was alive then?" Lorna asked. "Your Voldemort was resurrected?"

Gareth nodded, still not looking at them. "He got his hands on the Philosopher's Stone when I was eleven and used it to create a new body. A new war began, and when I was inducted into the Death Eaters, it was all but won. I was Voldemort's most powerful weapon." His voice was full of such self-loathing that Gabriel and Lorna didn't doubt he regretted every bit of what happened. "I was to kill Dumbledore. Draco stood beside him and so Voldemort had me kill Draco too. Lucius is the only one that could have stopped me—his word was my law—but he wasn't there, so I had no choice but to kill my brother, and then Dumbledore after him."

"I can't imagine Lucius reacted well to that," Gabriel said quietly.

Gareth shook his head, inhaling shakily and finally looking at them again, though only briefly before lowering his gaze once more. "He hated me. He probably hated Voldemort more, but he knew he'd have no chance against Voldemort at the height of his power, so he took all his anger out on me. He could have used me against Voldemort, but I think he hated me too much for it to occur to him." He took another breath, this one steadier, and lifted his eyes to stare at Gabriel. "So what now? What do you want from me?"

Gabriel looked to Lorna. "How do you feel about him?" he asked in a vampire whisper. "Knowing he's part Malfoy."

She folded her arms over her chest, considering the man on the floor. "He's not Cato Malfoy. He's not Lucius Malfoy, either. I'm not the same person I was four hundred years ago; I imagine he's not either after—" she did some quick maths "—a thousand years."

"No," Gabriel agreed. "Time like that changes a person."

"Especially experiences like his. We should watch him for a while, but I think he'll still serve the purpose we want. He does have to obey you."

"He fights orders," Gabriel pointed out. "He fought his last orders."

"To help people. To help Harry," Lorna noted. "He seems to care for the children under his watch at Hogwarts, and twice he's tried to help Harry. He saved Harry's life at serious harm to himself."

Gabriel couldn't argue with that. "We're agreed, then?" he asked, and when Lorna nodded he raised his voice and spoke to Gareth, reaching into his pocket. "I'm going to unchain you. You won't stand up, try to leave, or attack me or Lorna."

Gareth nodded, watching him remove a key and unlock the shackles. As soon as they were off, his hair returned to the usual dark red, his eyes went brown, and both the scars on his left hand and the lightning bolt on his forehead disappeared. As he rubbed at his wrists, his ankle healed itself with a crack that made him grimace and he twisted it, testing it, then noticed the looks on the vampires' faces.

"What? I told you I was powerful and you said nothing about not healing myself or putting my glamour back up."

"You're going to be a difficult man to manage, aren't you, Mr Martin?" Gabriel said.

"I obey my orders."

"If you think they're worth obeying?"

Gareth grinned. "Something like that. But you know, it hurts me to disobey. Even without being ordered to harm myself, it causes me physical pain not to obey an order I'm given, so as long as it's not something unpleasant then I'm not generally inclined to be disobedient. If you're a good Master, I'll be a good Slave."

"Duly noted. Tell me what you know about the vampire Aurelia, if anything."

"Life long enemy of yours. Slave of your father, half-sister to your half-sister, resents you for killing said half-sister. I'm guessing she's causing trouble for you?"

"She's declared war against us," Gabriel confirmed.

"That explains the surge in vampire deaths over the last few months. You want me to kill her?"

Gabriel smiled thinly. "I don't send humans to fight my battles for me."

"Sure? 'Cause I can do it easily enough. Not like I haven't killed ancient vampires before."

"I'm quite sure, Mr Martin. I fight my own battles, and Aurelia is my problem to deal with.

Gareth shrugged. "What do you want from me then?"

"Aurelia has already gone after our children. I need you to protect them whilst they're at school." Gabriel crouched, putting himself eye level with Gareth and holding his gaze firmly. "This is your primary and most important order, Gareth Martin. You will protect Harry and Tori from anything that threatens them at Hogwarts."

Gareth frowned. "Can you rephrase that?"

"No. You will not disobey this, Mr Martin."

"I'm not inclined to, it's just when you say 'anything that threatens them', that kinda includes Bludgers whacked at Harry during a Quidditch match and, y'know, I could get in trouble with Albus for interfering with a game. And Minerva. You've never seen Minerva McGonagall in one of her rages; it's not pretty. She's a big Quidditch fan."

Gabriel considered it, and amended, "Very well. You will protect Harry and Tori from any threat not native to the school."

Gareth rolled that over in his mind then nodded. "That should do. And now?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now. You want me to protect your children during school term. That's not for another two months. What are you going to do with me in the meantime? Are you going to tell Harry and Tori about me? Either my past or my Bond to you?"

"No. However, I will want you to accompany them to the Quidditch World Cup in August. We have already purchased tickets; Jennifer and Ada will be going as well. In the meantime, you will return home and—"

" _No,_ " Gareth snarled, surprising both vampires with the angry desperation suddenly twisting his face. "You can't send me away like that."

"I can do as I like, Mr Martin."

"Haven't you read that book?" Gareth spat, pointing at the tome that Lorna still held. "We're freshly Bonded. I need physical proximity to you until the Bond settles. If I don't, it'll hurt me. It'll hurt you too, if not so much. Confine me to the nest area of the manor if you don't want the kids to know about me, but you can't send me away. It's going to be bad enough in September when I have to go back to Hogwarts, but two months near you will at least let it ease enough that going away then won't be so bad."

"The book did mention that," Gabriel murmured, also remembering how even after two months he hadn't wanted to send away Higgs, despite disliking him a great deal. He didn't have that dislike towards Gareth and he had to admit he felt a certain reluctance to send him away. "Fine, you may remain in the nest areas, but you're not to venture into the main house."

Gareth nodded. "Can I go out when I like? I know there's a back exit; I'll make sure I'm not seen."

"You've just demanded we keep you here!" Lorna exclaimed. "Now you want to leave?"

"I don't want to be held prisoner. I still want to be able to go out and do things, but I need to come back here in the meantime. I need that proximity a lot, but not twenty-four/seven."

"You're free to come and go as you please," Gabriel told him, "and I will speak to the nest about not feeding on you. Anything else?"

The question was clearly sarcastic, but Gareth grinned. "How do you feel about threesomes?"

They looked him over, looked at each other, then turned away and left without bothering to answer, leaving him to huff sullenly behind them.

* * *

 **AN:** I made up the words of the ritual spell so if any of them mean something in a non-English language, it's purely coincidental. (And hopefully if they do, it's nothing insulting.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Something was different inside Harry. He assumed it was the fact of no longer being Voldemort's Horcrux, but he couldn't figure out why that made speaking in Parseltongue now feel so strange. Before, he'd always spoken it with the same ease he spoke English, like it just came naturally to him with the entire vocabulary already inside his head; now it was like speaking French, Italian, or Greek, still fluent but with the distinct sensation that it wasn't his first language and that if he didn't speak it regularly then he would forget how.

He was in his bedroom talking with Samantha about why he'd vanished for over a week when Tori came to speak to him one evening when their parents were out on nest business. Now he was back, the strict restrictions she'd been under whilst he was missing were relaxed, but they'd both noticed vampires lurking about a lot more often than they used to.

"So I've been thinking," Tori began without preamble. "Do you think Mum and Dad would let us invite friends over seeing as we're not going abroad this year?"

"No," Harry said immediately, then thought about it and asked, "For a few hours or for a sleepover?"

"A week long sleepover. Lisa went to Padma's last year," she said when Harry shook his head. "They had loads of fun together."

"Mum and Dad'd probably let you go over to Padma's if you wanted," Harry suggested, but Tori scoffed.

"Yeah, right. They think Aurelia would attack me there or something. Besides, I want them to come here so we can go swimming and ride the horses and I can show them the manor. You could invite your friends; if we both asked then they're more likely to let us."

"Maybe…" Now she mentioned, it might be cool to invite a friend or two over. Of course, he only had two friends to really speak of anyway; he got on well enough with the other Slytherins in his year, but Theo and Anita were the only one he'd truly call friends. He wasn't sure how they'd feel about a week long sleepover at the home of vampires, if their parents even let them. "I guess there's no harm in asking," he ventured.

Tori grinned. "I knew you'd agree. We'll ask them when they get back."

They didn't get chance to speak to Gabriel and Lorna until lunch the next day. To Harry's surprise, they didn't immediately refuse the request, but nor did they agree to it.

"Do your friends want to spend time in a house of vampires?" Lorna asked them, to which Harry admitted he hadn't asked yet and Tori insisted Lisa and Padma were fine with it.

"And what do their parents or guardians think?" Gabriel asked. "And keep in mind I can tell when you're lying, Tori."

Her shoulders slumped. "Padma's parents don't like it much," she admitted. "But Lisa's parents are okay with it. They're Muggles so they don't have any prejudice against vampires."

"Muggles know enough stories about us to be concerned."

"Yeah, but they don't mind, honest. Lisa said they figure that if you're okay to raise me and Harry then you can't be like the evil vampires in horror films."

Gabriel and Lorna conferred about it while Harry and Tori finished their lunch, speaking quietly at the other end of the kitchen table. Harry was doubtful about what they'd say. There were a lot more vampires living in the manor these days. Normally there were only twenty or thirty at a time, with other nest vampires living in their own houses, but with the fight against Aurelia waging a lot more now resided at Lynott Manor for the protection it afforded.

Despite this, Tori's hope won out.

"We will write to your friends' parents," Lorna told them. "If they agree to come meet with us for a few hours, then we'll consider a longer visit."

Tori leapt out of her seat, beaming and running over to hug them both. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Her excitement over the matter was infectious, but Harry tried not to get his hopes up too high. He had a feeling Theo wouldn't be able to visit; he was coming to realise that Theo's home life was less than ideal and he suspected his father might not agree to letting him visit Harry for a week. He had no idea what Anita's mother thought of vampires, but he didn't want to convince himself she was as accepting as Lisa's parents in case she ended up believing that real vampires were like those in the movies.

He wrote to them to ask if they actually wanted to come over before he let his parents write to theirs, and while Anita did turn him down it was because she, her mother, and her aunt's family were on holiday in the Lake District. To his surprise, Theo sent back a letter agreeing immediately and saying his father would have no problem with it. Harry thought nothing of it until, a few days before the planned meet between parents, Gabriel came to Harry and demanded to see one of his letters from Theo.

"What's wrong?" he asked as Gabriel compared the letter from Theo with another he held.

"Frederick Nott has readily agree to let Theo come to stay," Gabriel said, staring hard at the two letters. "Rather _too_ readily, in my opinion. I suspect your friend has intercepted my letter and falsified a reply. The handwriting doesn't match, but there are ways to disguise that. I will write again."

Harry took his letter back and watched Gabriel go, hoping Theo hadn't falsified the letter from his father and, if he had, that he wouldn't get in too much trouble if or when Mr Nott found out.

But Gabriel said nothing more about it and on the twelfth of July, Mr Nott arrived at the manor just like the Patils and Lisa Turpin's father. While Mr and Mrs Patil were clearly nervous, glancing around the drawing room where Edward the butler brought them to meet the Valentines and Jennifer, Mr Nott seemed eager to leave more from impatience than a desire to not be around vampires, and Mr Turpin was looking around the manor with barely concealed excitement. As soon as introductions were made and everyone had taken a seat, Mr Turpin spoke up as Edward served tea and scones for everyone.

"Is this all original Gothic architecture?" he said, eyes raking over the room rather than looking at the occupants.

"Yes," Gabriel told him, surprised. "The entrance and west wing. But the east was added later—"

"Romanesque revival?" Mr Turpin interrupted, then realised what he'd done and dropped his gaze to Gabriel's, smiling. "My apologies, Mr—er, Lord Valentine. I'm an architect; I tend to get a bit over excited about these things sometimes. My wife would be telling me off if she were here, but she had to work, unfortunately. She's a lawyer, in the middle of a big case."

Gabriel waved the apology off, smiling as well. "It's alright, and you are correct about the east wing. The north wing—you wouldn't have seen that coming in—is Victorian imitation; it was only added some fifty years ago."

"Stunning building," Mr Turpin admired. "Really stunning."

"I can show you around properly later, if you like, and have Jennifer take you around the grounds to view the outside."

Harry thought Mr Turpin looked as if he'd just been offered all the gold in Gringotts. "That would be _wonderful_."

Gabriel smiled and nodded to him. Edward had finished serving and left the room with a bow. Mr Nott drank his tea distractedly, but Harry noticed Mr and Mrs Patil glancing into their cups warily then eying Mr Nott. Mr Turpin didn't seem to notice his, sitting on the table at his elbow.

Mrs Patil cleared her throat. "You're not taking anything, Lord and Lady Valentine?" she asked politely, but the thoughts on her mind were obvious. Lorna and Gabriel gave no indication that the suspicious nature bothered them.

"Human food and drink doesn't interact with us well," Lorna explained.

Mr Turpin opened his mouth, presumably to ask how it did react with them, then decided better and set about buttering his scone and taking a bite before washing it down with some tea. The Patils watched him closely and only when neither he nor Mr Nott showed any adverse affects did they lift their cups to their mouths.

Mr Nott spoke suddenly. "I hate to be rude," he said in the tone of a person who knows they're being rude anyway and doesn't care, "but is this going to take long? I'm a busy man."

"It'll take as long as it needs to, Mr Nott," Gabriel replied. "You need only tell us when you're reassured enough that you won't mind your son spending time in our home. "

Mr Nott clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I already told you in my first letter that I'm fine with it. Theodore can spend as much time here as he likes."

"I'm sure you understand why I expressed scepticism at your assurances," Gabriel replied smoothly, but there was a faint curl to his lip that Harry knew meant he didn't like Mr Nott very much. "Children often lie to their parents, especially to get what they want, and it would be no surprise to me if my children's friends lied to assuage you of any fears you might have."

"Not my son," Mr Nott growled.

There was a slight pause, then Gabriel replied in the same tone as before, "Is that so," before looking to the Patils. "You looked concerned when I mentioned fears you might have."

The Patils, who sat together on a sofa, grasped one another's hands, and Mr Patil said, "We mean no disrespect, sir, but… well, you _are_ vampires. We do have… concerns."

Gabriel and Lorna smiled disarmingly. "That is why we asked you here, Mr and Mrs Patil. Is there anything specific?" Lorna asked.

They seemed reluctant to speak, glancing at one another, but Mr Turpin cleared his throat and said without restraint, "You're not going to… uh… bite them are you? You _do_ bite people, don't you?"

"Yes, but not children, Mr Turpin, and we always seek permission first. Not only does the law dictate it, but our personal morals do as well."

"There are laws about it?" Mr Turpin said, seemingly pleased with this information. "That's good then. From the Ministry of Magic, yes? Lisa mentioned that."

Mr Nott suddenly fixed his gaze on Mr Turpin, his lip curling with obvious disgust. "You're a Muggle?"

Mr Turpin couldn't miss the tone of his voice and answered a touch warily, "Yes, my wife and I both are."

"Do you have a problem with Muggles, Mr Nott?" Lorna asked, and though her tone was polite, Mr Nott seemed to realise for the first time that he was taking afternoon tea with a couple of vampires. He clicked his tongue again.

"No," he said, and Harry took a bite of his scone so he didn't scoff aloud at the obvious lie. Next to him, Tori leant over and whispered in his ear, "Does Theo hate Muggles too?"

"I don't think he _hates_ them," Harry whispered back after swallowing. "He's never had a problem with Tracey Davies."

"Harry, Tori, don't whisper when we have guests," Gabriel chided them. "It's rude."

"Sorry, Dad," they piped up.

He looked back to Mr Turpin. "Yes, the Ministry of Magic has an abundance of laws regarding the behaviour of vampires, and they are not shy about enforcing maximum penalty sentences on those that break the law."

"Maximum penalty?"

"Death."

Mr Turpin looked startled. "Execution? But that's inhumane! We can't go around executing people just because they don't take afternoon tea!"

"Unfortunately, we're generally not considered human and therefore not subject to the same courtesies."

"Well that's outrageous! You seem near enough human to me—if that's not an insulting way of saying so. Certainly you seem just as capable of logical thought and able to appreciate good art and architecture, which if you ask me is a better sign of human intelligence than anything else."

"You do us a great kindness, Mr Turpin," Lorna said, smiling widely. "There have been fewer executions of our kind since the building of the Black Prison thirteen years ago—a prison for vampires and other part-human creatures," she explained at his questioning look.

"Ah, instead of that other one? Askibibin?"

"Azkaban," Mr Nott corrected rudely. "It's called Azkaban."

Mr Turpin flushed slightly, but bristled in annoyance at his tone. "Right."

Mr Nott glanced at the rest of the room's occupants. Gabriel and Lorna's expressions were unfailingly polite, but there was a definite coldness in their eyes. Mr and Mrs Patil struggle to hide their disgust with Mr Nott's attitude, and Tori was openly glaring at him. He put down his nearly empty tea cup and stood up.

"I would like to leave now. You have my permission for Theodore to visit; the children can arrange a time between themselves."

Gabriel and Lorna made no objections. They stood so as not to be completely rude, but didn't shake hands, and sat down only after Edward had come and escorted Mr Nott out.

"I am sorry you had to endure that in our home, Mr Turpin," Lorna said.

Mr Turpin shook his head. "Not your fault, Lady Valentine. I'm surprised more than anything. Lisa told Abigail—my wife—and me about those attitudes, but I hadn't really understood it until now. Is it very common? I don't like the thought that Lisa might be being bullied at school just because her mother and I aren't wizards, though I hope she'd tell us if she was."

"She isn't bullied, Mr Turpin," Tori said earnestly. "Some people are rude, but if anyone tries to be really mean we—er, that is, the teachers punish them."

Mr Turpin looked a little encouraged by that. "Then that man's son, Theodore, he's a friend of yours?"

"He's my friend," Harry told him. "But he's not like his father. Theo—" He hesitated. 'Nice' wasn't really the word he'd use for Theo, nor any of its synonyms. Theo mostly just wanted to keep to himself and he would be short with people in order to achieve that, but he wasn't outright rude unless someone annoyed him. 'Unbigoted' wasn't entirely accurate either, however, and eventually Harry settled for saying, "doesn't bother anyone."

Mr Turpin and the Patils looked happy with that. As the afternoon wore on and they made conversation, the Patils relaxed more. When the Valentines showed them around the house, they weren't as excited as Mr Turpin, but seeing Harry and Tori's old playroom, classroom, and a glimpse of their bedrooms seemed to put them at ease a little more, as did walking around the outside of the house and talking to Harry, Tori, and Jennifer without Gabriel and Lorna.

When they reached the stables, however, Mrs Patil recoiled, staring in horror at the section where the Thestrals were housed, a part that opened onto the woodland at the rear of the grounds so the Thestrals could venture in and out at their leisure, whilst the normal horses had open access to a fenced in paddock.

"You keep Thestrals?" she gasped, one hand clutched to her chest.

"They're as well trained as the horses," Jennifer told her.

"They're omens of Death!"

"No, they're not," Jennifer said firmly but not rudely.

"Sorry, what are… what was it?" Mr Turpin asked, peering in the general direction Mrs Patil was staring, trying to see what she was looking at. "Thes…?"

"Thestrals," Mr Patil told him. "They're invisible winged horses."

"Invisible?" he repeated, and looked at Mrs Patil. "How do you know they're there then?"

Mrs Patil shook her head, apparently unwilling to answer.

"They're not invisible to people who have seen someone die," Harry told him. Mr Turpin looked from him to Mrs Patil, then back again.

"Er… have you seen someone die?"

Harry nodded, which made all three of the guests look at him, and Mr Patil asked worriedly, "How? Did your parents—the Valentines—have they killed someone?"

"No," Harry lied, but he figured they didn't need to know about the deaths his parents had caused and it wasn't like they'd ever killed anyone in front of him and Tori. "My godfather was killed when I was seven, and I—saw my uncle die a few months later. That was before the Valentines adopted me."

"Oh," Mr Patil said, visibly relaxing. "My sympathies for your loss."

Harry smiled politely and didn't mention that he didn't care his uncle was dead. He looked to Mrs Patil. "The Thestrals really are harmless, Mrs Patil. Look."

He went up and clucked his tongue to get the attention of one of the Threstrals, holding out his hand for it to sniff and then stroking its nose. Mrs Patil looked as if she wanted to snatch his hand away in case the Thestral bit him, but Mr Turpin was watching with a bemused expression. Harry supposed it must look strange for him to be stroking what appeared to be thin air.

"This one's called Thistleborn. He's my favourite."

"They're like pets then?" Mr Turpin asked. "I suppose the death omen is superstition prompted by how they become visible?"

Harry nodded. "We ride them just like the horses."

"Harry does," Tori amended. "And Mum and Dad. I can't see them and I don't want to ride something I can't see. This is Jupiter," she added, gesturing to the bay mare who was chewing lazily on some hay in the horses section. "She's my favourite and she's the fastest we've got."

Mr Turpin asked to touch the Thestral, eyes widening when Harry guided his hand onto it, and then they headed back to the house. Harry thought that the Patils might have been put off by the Thestrals, but when it came time for their guests to leave, they agreed to letting Padma come to stay, though only after Mr Turpin said Lisa could.

"When can they come over?" Tori asked Gabriel and Lorna as soon as Mr Turpin and the Patils had left. "Soon?"

Gabriel and Lorna made a show of thinking about it, but only to wind her up a bit, and smiled as they eventually agreed, "Whenever your friends can make it. We're not going anywhere all summer, not until near the end of August."

"Where are we going then?" Harry asked, surprised by this news.

"If you can't figure that out, you won't go at all."

"What d'you mean?" he complained. "I'm not psychic, how am I supposed to know where you want us to go?"

Smiling slyly, Lorna just patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll figure out it."

* * *

Sirius ran along the corridors of the Black Prison. Faces peered out at him from behind reinforced glass windows, more than a few of the occupants hurling useless threats and insults at him, loathing him for ever building the prison. Never mind that if it weren't for this prison, most of them would have been executed for their crimes instead.

But he paid none of them the slightest attention. His robes whipped behind him as he hurtled along the corridors, cursing every door that slowed him down, and eventually he skidded to a halt at one of the cell doors. It swung open at a touch of his wand and he stepped inside, eyes fixing on the bed—which was empty. A guard stood by it.

"Where—"

The guard pointed. Sirius moved so he could see around the bed and his breath hitched. Still swathed in the white, prison issue robes, greying hair ratty and hanging past his shoulders because Sirius hadn't had chance to visit in a while and, of course, none of the other guards cared to deal with anything like that, Lupin stood half-crouched in the corner, teeth bared in a snarl behind scraggly facial hair as grey as that atop his head, amber eyes fixed angrily on the guard.

When he saw Sirius, he actually growled, sounding not unlike the werewolf he'd become in a week's time, his eyes narrowing in clear hatred, but when Sirius took a step forward, Lupin shrank back, pressing himself further into the wall. The action made Sirius' chest burn with guilt, the same guilt he felt ever since the truth of James and Lily's deaths came out two years ago.

Lupin realised what he'd done and his snarl faded, though the hatred in his gaze didn't, and he seemed to fight the urge to shrink further in on himself.

"Sirius," he said, voice rasping in his throat. "Surprised to see you. Surprised to wake up. Thought you were going to kill me. Or does that come now? Waiting for me to be conscious before you sliced my head off?"

Sirius couldn't help flinching, because it was true. Lupin noticed and laughed, the noise hollow and raspy.

"Where's the axeman then? Or are you going to do it yourself?"

"No," Sirius said softly. "No one is killing you, Remus."

Lupin cocked his head slightly. "The Kiss then? I didn't think they gave that to things like me."

"They don't. Remus, you're not being punished. I know the truth."

"The truth?"

"About what happened. I know you didn't betray Lily and James. I'm sor-"

"How long have I been unconscious?" Lupin interrupted. He raked his eyes over Sirius. "Been a while judging by the look of you."

"Thirteen years."

Lupin clearly didn't expect that. Surprise overtook some of the hatred, but not for long. "Where am I?"

"A prison."

"Not Azkaban," Lupin said, frowning as he glanced at the walls around him, but fixing his gaze back on Sirius when he took another step forward, lips drawing back in a snarl again, fingers curling so his hands were clawed.

"No, not Azkaban. A specially built prison—"

Lupin gave a sharp bark of hoarse laughter that devolved into a coughing fit. Sirius flicked his wand to conjure a glass of water, but even as it materialised Lupin snarled through his coughs, shrinking further in on himself, and then collapsed, coughing harshly. Sirius took the glass and approached him, hating himself for the unmistakable glimmer of fear in Lupin's eyes, crouching and reaching out a hand only for Lupin to weakly slap it away.

"Don't—don't touch—" He could say nothing more and Sirius reached out again. Lupin tried to push Sirius away, but he couldn't stop Sirius curling a hand gently around the back of his head to hold him steady as he lifted the glass to Lupin's mouth. He tried to turn his head away, but Sirius tightened his grip and pressed the glass to his lips and Lupin relented, opening his mouth and swallowing down some of the water.

"Better?" Sirius asked when he'd gulped down a few mouthfuls, withdrawing slightly but not straightening up.

"What was in it?"

"Nothing. I mean it, Remus—I'm not going to hurt you, nor is anyone else."

"Funny," Lupin growled. "The last thing I remember is you doing your best to hurt me."

"I know," he whispered. He put down the glass and looked around at the guard. "Leave us."

The guard didn't move. "You sure about that?"

"Yes. Get out."

Still looking unsure, the guard left, shutting the door behind him. Sirius looked back to Lupin.

"You've changed, Sirius."

"It's been thirteen years, Remus."

"Lost the love of an audience in that time, did you? Prefer to torment people behind closed doors now?"

"I don't torment people."

"Oh, I'm sorry, what's the official, Ministry sanctioned term for it? Interrogation? Prisoner maintenance?"

"I don't—!" He cut himself off, glancing away and pushing down the irritation at Lupin's anger—at his hatred. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then opened them again and looked back at him. He shifted from a crouch to sit properly, crossing his legs. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, Remus. You have no idea how sorry."

"No, I don't," he said unforgivingly. "Thirteen years, huh? That's how long it took you to figure out the truth."

"No," Sirius said softly. "Eleven. That's when I found Peter."

Lupin's eyes darted side-ways and upwards, remembering, then focused on him again. "You said he died. Right before attacking me, you said he was dead."

"He wasn't. He faked it and went into hiding as Wormtail. He got himself taken in by a wizarding family, masquerading as a pet. The Hogwarts Potion Master found him out during a lesson a couple of years ago."

"… old Slughorn?"

Sirius shook his head. "New guy."

Lupin didn't react to this. He glanced at the glass of water on the floor, darted his tongue out to swipe across dry lips, but made no move to take the drink and focused on Sirius again.

"And… and Harry? What happened to him? Where is he?"

"Harry's safe. He's fine, Remus."

"But what happened, Sirius? That night, when Voldemort attacked… I heard rumours, but I never had chance… did he really survive a Killing Curse?"

"Merlin, you don't know… jeez… er, yeah, he did."

" _How?_ "

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe no one does. Dumbledore probably has his theories, but he's never given me any kind of satisfactory answer."

"And Voldemort? He's really gone?"

Sirius nodded. "For good now."

"Now?" Lupin asked, not missing his inflection.

"Yeah. Look, Remus, I will tell you everything you've missed, but let me get you out of here first. You need looking at by a healer and then I'll get you somewhere warm and comfortable. My place—"

"Why?" Lupin interrupted, catching Sirius off guard.

"What?"

"Why? Why should I leave with you? Why should I trust anything from you, Sirius?"

His mistrust was like a dagger in the heart and Sirius knew he deserved every bit of it. "I told you, I'm sor-"

"You're sorry, yeah. You're sorry for believing I betrayed Lily and James for eleven years, for putting me in a coma for thirteen years, for throwing me in prison—a specially built prison," he sneered. "I should feel so honoured. I suppose they wouldn't take me at Azkaban."

"No," Sirius agreed quietly. "They wanted you executed."

"But you wanted me conscious first. Yes, I can see it in your eyes, Sirius," he said when Sirius looked away. "It's your style. You wouldn't want me to die without seeing it coming. So you built me a prison and locked me away until I woke up. I suppose I should be lucky I didn't wake up two years ago before you learnt the truth. I probably wouldn't have survived this long, would I?"

"Remus, I'm sorry!" Sirius cried, looking at him once more, unable to refrain from rolling forwards onto his knees and reaching out a hand, stopping when Lupin recoiled from him once more. "I'm sorry I thought the worst of you, I'm sorry I attacked you, I'm sorry I never even gave you chance to defend yourself or explain. I hate myself for what I did, I truly do."

Lupin seemed untouched by his guilt. "Why keep me here? Two years since you learnt the truth—why am I still in this prison?"

Sirius sat back again, dropping his hand to his lap. "Saint Mungo's wouldn't take you. You still transformed at the full moon, but you stayed comatose. No one knew if you'd ever wake up and the healers at the hospital refused to take you. We had the facilities here to care for you—there was nowhere else."

"And where's Peter? Azkaban?"

Sirius nodded. "Kissed."

Cruel satisfaction flitted across Lupin's face, surprising Sirius. Lupin had never been—cruel, he had to admit—like he and James had been. He joined in their pranks at school, but never with the nastier ones and he never took pleasure if people were actually harmed, unlike Sirius and James. He'd expected Lupin to come out of his coma, if it ever happened, pretty much the same person he'd been before. He knew the experience _would_ change Lupin, but he didn't think it would happen so quickly or so extremely. But it was as if something in Lupin had changed the moment Sirius attacked him all those years ago.

He hadn't thought Lupin would be so clear thinking so soon after waking up, either. As ordered, the prison guards had summoned Sirius as soon as Lupin awoke, and it'd been Sirius' night off so he'd only been watching TV when he got the Floo call and had come immediately, expecting to find Lupin still only half-conscious and very confused. Instead it was like Lupin hadn't just woken up of his own accord, but been revived by magic and mentally restored, which was impossible because Sirius had dragged in the best healers money could buy to examine Lupin and none of them could figure out how to repair the damage Sirius caused. Sirius himself didn't even know what he'd done to cause the damage; he'd been blind with fury when he attacked Lupin all those years ago.

"And if I refuse to go with you?" Lupin asked. "You'll lock me up again?"

"No. I'll have a healer look at you, like I said, and then you're free to go. But where would you go, Remus?"

"To see Harry. After that, I don't know. What?" he asked sharply, seeing something flicker on Sirius' face.

"You might have trouble seeing Harry."

Lupin's expression darkened. His gaze flicked to the door, back to Sirius, and then he lunged, knocking Sirius back and pinning him to the floor, teeth bared in a snarl again. Sirius tensed, instinctively reaching for his wand and making to throw him off, but he restrained himself at the last minute. Even with the added werewolf strength, Lupin was too weak and drained to be any kind of threat to Sirius. They'd kept him nourished with IV-injected potions, but it just wasn't possible to keep a comatose man from losing a whole lot of weight and muscle strength.

But Sirius had hurt Lupin before and he didn't want to do it again, so he let himself be pinned and didn't draw his wand.

"I won't let you stop me seeing Harry," Lupin growled. "He's my godson; I swore to protect him—something you refused to do."

"I won't stop you, Remus. I'll do everything I can to get you to see him, but it isn't going to be easy."

"Why not?"

"Because he's been adopted by vampires."

Lupin blinked and all the snarl vanished from his voice, replaced by pure shock. "He's _what_?"

"Adopted by vampires."

"Adopt- vampires aren't even allowed to adopt! That's ridiculous."

"They are, it turns out. Apparently no one ever thought a vampire would _want_ to adopt, so there was never a law against it."

Lupin drew back, staring at Sirius, stunned. "Is this a joke?"

Sirius sat up. "No. And believe me, I tried to interfere. I didn't want to believe vampires could look after him, but I spent a week living with them. I've watched them all together. They're good parents."

Lupin gave a dry, humourless laugh. "This is a joke. You're pulling my tail. It's very funny, Sirius, but who is he really living with? Severus? I know he disowned him, but with Lily and James dead he could have taken him in. Or Alice and Frank? Is he growing up with their lad, Neville?"

"It's not a joke, Remus. Snape's dead, has been for seven years now. Alice and Frank… they're in Saint Mungo's long-term ward. Tortured into insanity a few months after Voldemort fell."

"No! By who?"

"The Lestranges, and Barty Crouch Jr."

Lupin's jaw dropped. "Crouch? That Ravenclaw prefect a couple of years below us? Old Crouch's son?"

Sirius nodded.

"Merlin… and Severus? What happened to him?"

"Werewolf attack."

Lupin sucked in a sharp breath. "Did they catch…?"

"Killed. Harry was there, he—"

"Harry! Was he—"

"He wasn't bit," Sirius assured him, and Lupin sighed with relief. "He was scratched up bad—he's still got the scars from it—but he wasn't infected. He managed to Floo call Dumbledore, who got a message to me and Martin—Gareth Martin, Snape's cousin; he's that new Potions Master I mentioned—who got there in time to kill the werewolf before it infected or killed Harry."

"I didn't know Severus had a cousin," Lupin murmured, but went on, "Who was the werewolf?"

"Fenrir Greyback."

Lupin twitched. "So he's dead." He paused, then asked, "Was it painful?"

"Probably not; Martin broke his neck."

"Pity," Lupin muttered, then sighed heavily, his expression turning faintly suspicious again as he fixed amber eyes on Sirius. "Harry's really been adopted by vampires?"

Sirius nodded. Lupin eyed him for a moment, then said grudgingly, "Call that healer. I'll figure out whether to forgive you or not when I've seen my godson."

* * *

Dumbledore didn't hide his surprise when Gareth Martin turned up in his office one evening in mid-July. He wasn't one of those teachers that ever stayed at the school over the summer holiday, preferring to go home to his flat in London, and Dumbledore hadn't expected to see the man before mid-August, when the teachers started trickling back to prepare for the new school year.

"What can I do for you, Gareth?" he asked after the man took a seat. Gareth hadn't yet spoken, nor had he taken his gaze off Dumbledore since entering the room, and something about him struck Dumbledore as _different_ , and it wasn't just the lack of his usual salute of a greeting. "Everything alright?"

Gareth nodded, sitting without removing his cloak. He just watched Dumbledore for another minute, in which Dumbledore said nothing and waited for the man to find whatever it was he seemed to be looking for. Eventually the younger man let out a hefty sigh, unfastened his cloak, and slouched in the chair.

"Sorry, Albus, I just needed to figure something out."

"And did you?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad to have helped, then. Might I ask what you figured out?"

"My Animancupium Bond has been transferred."

Dumbledore blinked, surprised and unsure how it related to the searching look Gareth gave him, then asked, "Is that a good thing or bad? Should I be concerned for you?"

"Definitely good. My new Master has released me from the orders of my old; I haven't been this relaxed in years. No more self-harm either. I burnt all my blood quills."

"I'm glad to hear that. So if I asked who your new Master is…?"

Gareth grinned, shaking his head. "I'm not telling, but I'm not telling through my own choice this time."

"That's some improvement, I suppose. I'm curious though; you said before that you would fight any attempts to transfer your Bond."

"Oh, I did. I didn't go quietly, I can promise you that, but I really am better off now."

"Your opinions are not entirely objective, though," Dumbledore pointed out.

"No, but seeing as my new Master doesn't make me hurt myself—or at least, hasn't yet—doesn't that say I'm better off?"

"It's certainly in his or her favour."

"His."

Dumbledore nodded, but his expression was far from pleased or happy. "Is this change going to affect your work here?"

Gareth shook his head. "No. I'm still just as capable of teaching and looking after the kids as I was before. I just might ask for the occasional weekend off. It's a fresh Bonding," he explained at Dumbledore's questioning expression. "It demands close proximity to my Master and the length of the summer isn't really enough time for that desire for closeness to fade. It'll hurt me if I don't go back to him occasionally, make me restless, edgy, grumpy."

"Alright," Dumbledore agreed. "Weekend breaks can be permitted. What about harm to your Master? You were very sure your last one was safe from sudden death. What about this one?"

With clear reluctance, Gareth admitted, "I can't make the same guarantees as before, but I will say he's a resilient bastard and I've seen him come through some serious scrapes. If something was going to happen, I can promise I'd have enough warning to get myself away from other people."

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't understand."

"If I die because my Master dies, my death is violent." He leant forward, gesturing as he went on to explain, "See, because the Animancupium was designed to be used on Muggles, the nature of the magic gets twisted when it's used on a wizard and it becomes more two-way than it does with Muggles. When the Bond breaks due to death, all the magic lashes back along the connection, crashes into the magic of the Slave, and basically explodes. The more magically powerful the Slave, the stronger the backlash, and basically when I die it'll be enough to rattle the walls even of Hogwarts. You don't want people in the proximity of that."

"And you're certain you could get yourself clear before that happened?" Dumbledore asked, worried about the students getting caught up in such a disaster.

Gareth's expression was earnest. "I promise you, Albus. I won't put the students in danger."

"Very well, I trust your word."

"Thank you. By the way, you can perform that spell to make the Bond visible now, if you still wanted to." When Dumbledore expressed his surprise, he added, "I had a reason not to before. Explain it later. You want to see it?"

Dumbledore nodded, getting up to fetch the Animancupium book from one of his shelves before returning to his seat, flicking through to find the incantation then drawing his wand and aiming it at Gareth. " _Vinservi homionspicuam interdometserv ostendere_."

A ghostly, blood red chain faded into view, pulled taut and running from the centre of Gareth's chest to veer right and vanish through the south wall of the office. It remained for a few seconds before fading away again.

"It looked as if it's trying to pull something from your chest," Dumbledore said, stowing his wand again. "Can you feel it?"

"Kind of. It's fresh, which is why it was so taut, and that makes it ache slightly the further away I am from my Master. It'll relax with time."

"It's certainly eerie to see."

"Especially in that colour," Gareth agreed. "I think I preferred it in white."

"It changes colour?"

"Reflects the soul of the person I'm bound to."

"That does not encourage me to your new Master," Dumbledore said. "Blood red against pure white…"

"Ha! Albus, don't take white for purity," Gareth told him. "It can just as easily reflect cold, sterile, clinical."

"I would not say those are necessarily bad things."

"Even when applied to people?"

Dumbledore hesitated, thinking of the people that he would apply those words to. "I suppose you make a point."

"And blood red can easily signify strong life, richness, power…"

"Danger, bloodlust, death."

"You carry on like that I won't tell you a story."

Dumbledore's lips twitched in amusement at his tone. "Are you going to threaten not to tuck me into bed next?"

"You're more than old enough to tuck yourself into bed."

"Perhaps. Very well, what's this story you're going to tell me? I promise not to speak ill of your Master any further, unless you give me reason to."

Gareth sniffed. "Good enough, I suppose. Settle in, it's a long one…"

An hour later, Dumbledore hadn't the slightest inclination to joke. He sat back in his chair, sighing wearily and looking sadly at the man opposite him. "I am sincerely sorry, Gareth, for the way my counterpart treated you."

Gareth shrugged, sipping from a glass of mead. They'd broken open a bottle halfway through his story. "It wasn't you."

"It was, to a degree. However different we are, in many ways we are also the same and so I must apologise on his behalf. I must admit, I understand his feelings to some degree about you interfering with other timelines, but it does not excuse what he did to you."

"I'll get over it. Others have treated me worse, to be honest."

Dumbledore frowned. "But you feared me. Not him, _me_. I did notice your reaction when Tori Valentine brought Dolores Umbridge's abuse to my attention."

Gareth glanced down at his glass, scowling. "There were blood quills in use and you know how easily I can get them; I thought you might be concerned about my involvement. Don't take it personal, Dumbledore. The Bond does create a minor connection between me and the counterparts of my Master. You're not him, but I still felt some of the loyalty and desire to do as you commanded."

"That is distressing to hear," Dumbledore said, and he certainly looked unhappy. Gareth said nothing, not looking at him. "So am I—he—the reason you wouldn't let me see the Bond before?"

Gareth nodded. "The spell is dispersed by solid objects," he said with a wave of his hand at the wall where the chain had vanished earlier, "but in proximity to my Master, it connects to them. You're the closest thing the chain would be able to find of my Master and it would have coiled around you even if it wouldn't touch you. Bit too much of a giveaway."

"I understand. So if you never attended my Hogwarts, why is it we have records on you? Falsified, I presume, along with every other 'official' document about your life?"

"Yup, but all the information on the Hogwarts records is true. I did my time travel four weeks before taking my NEWTs, but I took them once in another timeline, and I have done extended study at Beauxbatons, just not in this timeline. The rest of my documents are a little more… liberal with the truth."

"Blatant lies," Dumbledore translated, to which Gareth shrugged and grinned.

"Gotta get by somehow. And June and David Martin did exist and were related to Severus; they just didn't have any children and they had no part in Severus' life, so he had no memories of them to contradict the information I made up."

"I should fire you with this information. In fact, I should have you arrested. Falsifying legal documents is a felony."

"Now why would you do something like that, Albus? I'm a damn good teacher and you know it. I'm not doing anyone any harm."

"That is true. I'll keep it as something to hold over your head in case you ever cause me trouble."

"I'll be sure to keep it in mind," Gareth said with false solemness, toasting Dumbledore with his drink and then chucking it back. As he poured himself another, Dumbledore remarked,

"This does explain many things. Your reaction to Draco Malfoy's death, for example. And Severus'."

Gareth frowned at him over his glass. "Okay, Draco I get. A teacher sobbing hopelessly over a student they had for a single term is a bit weird, but why Severus? We were honestly friends."

"I know, but even most close friends do not completely destroy their rooms in their grief, or—how do you put it?—get 'piss poor drunk' every year on their birthday. I, ah… I thought perhaps you were in love with him, in truth."

Gareth blanched. "You know how to turn a man's stomach, Albus. He might not be my father exactly, but he's close enough."

"Apologies. Do you know, then, why Severus never told me about Harry?"

"About being his dad?" Gareth asked, then shrugged. "You know Severus; he liked his privacy. He probably thought you didn't need to know. Which you didn't, to be honest."

Dumbledore couldn't help his disgruntlement showing at that, but in truth he couldn't argue with it. Knowing that Severus fathered Harry instead of James wouldn't have changed any of his decisions with regards his treatment to Harry. He just didn't like not knowing everything, no matter how much he managed to pretend otherwise. Between this and the revelation that James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew had learnt the Animagus transformation right under his nose, that generation had kept more information from him than he liked, especially given how much he interacted with them post-Hogwarts.

"And the blood you used for the map which found Harry—was that yours?"

Gareth nodded, but frowned at his drink. "I knew it would find either Harry or Lucius. It's weird though. Lucius has no family left alive except cousins too distant to work for that spell, so I don't know why he covered himself with such powerful disguising spells. He had to know that most of our efforts to find him would have been through magical traces."

"I expect he's simply too paranoid of a person to have left any avenue uncovered."

"… that's a fair point, very true. I must have had too much to drink to not think of that."

Dumbledore chuckled and went on to question Gareth for a few hours as they finished off the bottle of mead together, curious as to the things he'd seen and done in other timelines, the information he knew that might be useful to him.

"I don't suppose you have any advice on who to hire for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?" he asked when the mead was almost finished. "With Voldemort truly dead and the Triwizard Tournament being hosted this year, I need to be a bit more selective about the appointment. I have no guarantee they'll be gone by the end of the year if they're bad."

"Who are your applicants?" Gareth asked, pouring the last of the mead into his glass.

"Mylor Sylvanus, Oakden Hobday, Preston Yaxley—"

Gareth's glass smashed. Mead spilled across him and the desk and glass flew across the room, slashing Gareth's own face and hand and making Fawkes leap off his perch with a squawk and make a circuit of the room, cuffing Gareth around the head with one wing before flying out the window.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, startled, drawing his wand to deal with the mess. Gareth beat him to it, muttering a spell to vanish the glass and mead, not even flinching when it disappeared the shards still stuck in his skin. He healed himself and vanished the blood.

"Fine. Too much to drink."

Dumbledore didn't see how that would lead to a glass breaking of its own accord, but Gareth didn't give him chance to say so. He stood up, fastening his cloak about his shoulders.

"Excuse me, Albus, I have to be getting on. I'm attending the Quidditch Cup in August, but I'll make sure I'm prepped for the school year before then, and I won't be arriving until late on the first of September. I need to get as much time with my Master before we're forced apart. Good night."

And he swept out without even waiting to get a response, leaving Dumbledore to stare after him with growing concern.

* * *

Gabriel found Gareth in the east wing bedroom that he'd claimed for himself since moving into the manor, sprawled face down on the bed. He wore only a pair of boxers, but made no move to cover himself further nor did he seem bothered that Gabriel had entered without so much as knocking.

"You did it."

"Did what?" came the muffled reply.

"Woke up the werewolf."

"Mmhm."

"Why?"

"'S a good man."

"He's a _werewolf_."

Gareth pushed himself onto his elbows and looked around at Gabriel, who leant against the door frame, arms folded over his chest. "Still a good man. I would've done it sooner if I could. And I'm guessing your annoyance is more because he happens to be Harry's godfather than anything else. Has he come asking to see Harry yet?"

"Sirius Black has come on his behalf."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Are you going to let him see him? You should," he said when Gabriel didn't answer. "It won't change anything. Harry despises werewolves. It's not like he'll want Remus in his life just because the man's conscious and free."

"Your input is not needed on the matter of my family, Mr Martin," Gabriel said tersely, and Gareth shrugged. "I need you to do something."

Gareth sat up. "Oh?"

"I own the _Daily Prophet_. I've just received word that the editor has been bullied into withholding a story about a paedophile within the Ministry of Magic. I cannot abide people who hurt children; get Barnabas Cuffe to publish the story in this evening's edition and handle whoever had the story suppressed. Put that power of yours to use in something that doesn't interfere with my family."

"Gladly," Gareth said, already standing and taking clothes from the wardrobe. "How do you want me to handle the Ministry?"

"I don't care as long as they regret trying to cover up such a monstrosity, but don't get arrested and don't let it come back to me in any bad way."

"You want me to do anything about the shitbag?"

Gabriel's mouth quirked slightly. "No. Your human courts can handle it for now. If they fail… I'll consider interfering."

"Fair enough. Lord Valentine?"

Gabriel paused, hand on the door handle, half turned away to leave. "Yes?"

"I have information about the World Cup you might want to consider."

Gabriel stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "What information?"

"You told me to go, presumably in case Aurelia attacks, but I thought you might like to know the match doesn't start until after dusk and it's never lasted more than six hours, to the best of my knowledge."

"Is that right," Gabriel murmured.

"Just in case you wanted to go yourself."

Gabriel considered him. "Do you not wish to attend?"

Gareth shrugged. "I've seen it a dozen times before and nothing much ever changes. I'll go to watch over Harry and Tori if you like, but it's no loss to me if I don't attend."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He left Gareth to his assignment and headed back through the east wing to the west, searching out Harry and finding him in his bedroom, sitting before Lego Hogwarts, the door open to let the sound of Tori's violin practice drift in from across the hallway. The children rarely ventured in the playroom these days, declaring themselves too old for their childish toys, but Gabriel knew Lego Hogwarts still held importance to Harry which was why he kept it in his bedroom. Both children had said they didn't mind getting rid of some of the older toys, but Harry had made a point to say that Lego Hogwarts wasn't one of those things.

"Theo wrote back," Harry said by way of greeting as Gabriel came over, removing the top of one of the castle's towers. Samantha's head stuck out the new hole. "He said he can come over on the first and stay for a week, the same as Lisa and Padma."

Gabriel nodded, crouching. "Will he need picking up?"

"No, he's coming on the Knight Bus."

"Alright. There's also something I need to discuss with you, Harry."

Harry looked up, frowning at Gabriel's tone. "What's wrong?"

"Remus Lupin is awake."

Harry's frown darkened to a scowl. "Oh. Good for him, I guess."

"He's asking to see you."

"What for?"

"Technically, he is your godfather. It is no surprise he'd want to see you."

"Do I have to?"

"Not if you don't want to." He paused, weighing his next words, then said, "Loathe as I am to say it, you should consider seeing him at least one. If he hears from you that you don't want him in your life, he's more likely to leave us alone than if he only hears it from me and your mother."

"I guess," he grumbled. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Let me know when you've come to a decision."

* * *

Lupin stared up at the massive house at the end of the driveway, clutching his cloak tightly around him despite the hot summer night. He simply didn't have enough meat on him to keep warm so he appreciated the clothes Sirius provided, especially after the full moon a few days ago. Somehow the transformation felt worse than it had the last time—or at least, the last time he could remember. He still struggled to deal with the knowledge that things he remembered as happening a month ago had actually occurred thirteen years ago.

"Harry lives here?"

"Sickening, isn't it?" Sirius said. "Can't even see the back half from here. The place is massive."

"And it's full of vampires?"

Sirius glanced at him, but Lupin didn't take his gaze off the house. "Half-full, at most, and the nest resides in the east wing. The kids aren't allowed there."

"But the vampires are allowed out?"

"Yes."

Lupin lowered his gaze to the front door as it opened, amber eyes fixing on the shadowed man stepping over the threshold.

"Is that him? Is that Valentine?"

"No, that's the butler."

"A butler. Not even a house-elf, an actual _butler_." He shook his head. "Lets go. I want to see Harry."

They approached. The butler's grey eyes watched Lupin with undisguised dislike and Lupin returned the look. Up close, he could tell the man was a vampire. The wolf inside of him snarled and he fought the urge to back away. He didn't want to enter this building. He could sense the other vampires now, knew they were deeper in the house, and he was just one werewolf with a human at his side. It wasn't good odds.

"Auror Black," the butler greeted, politely enough but without taking his gaze off Lupin, and his lip curled when he added, "Mr Lupin. The Lord and Lady Valentine are waiting for you."

He backed up and gestured for them to enter then shut the door and led them through the house to a drawing room, where three people waited for them. Lupin took in the two adults, trying to ignore the snarling beast in his chest, then fixed his eyes on Harry.

He stood between the two vampires, well dressed in Muggle trousers and a button up shirt, an unusually white wand in a holster at his hip. He wore his hair to his collar, the same black as Snape and James but with a hint of wildness to it that suggested James more than Snape. His eyes were still the brilliant green they'd been as a baby—Lily's eyes. He held himself confidently, back straight and chin up, but his hand lingered near his wand and his gaze was wary.

And there were the scars… even if Lupin didn't already know they were from a werewolf, he thought he would have known as soon as he saw them. They slashed across the left side of his face from his hairline and down across to his chin.

"Harry…"

Lupin stepped forward, but Harry's fingers twitched towards his wand and the vampires watched him with steely eyes. Lupin glanced at them, wetting his lips with his tongue, then back to Harry.

"It's good to see you, Harry. It's been a long time. You look well," he added, when Harry said nothing. "Healthy."

"Thank you," Harry said stiffly. "I'd return the sentiment, but my parents don't like it when I lie."

Lupin couldn't help glancing at the two vampires again.

"They are my parents," Harry said defensively. "They raised me."

"Are you happy?" Lupin asked.

"Very."

"Truly?"

"Yes. They're good to me. They're not monsters. Not like…"

"Like werewolves?"

Harry nodded. Beside Lupin, Sirius fidgeted, but Lupin shot him a quelling look and he said nothing.

"I don't blame you for thinking that," Lupin told Harry. "I understand your feelings."

"No, you don't. You can't understand what it was like for me."

"Do you think I wanted this?" Lupin said softly. "Sirius told me the werewolf that attacked you was Fenrir Greyback. That's the same person who bit me. Yes," he said at Harry's surprised look. "I know what I am and I know why you fear me, Harry, but I am not him. You, like so many, see the bad actions of one of my kind and assume we're all the same. I may be a monster, but I was a victim, too."

If his words affected the vampires, they showed no sign of it, but Harry glanced away, mouth tightening as he considered it.

"It doesn't change anything," he said. "You're still a stranger to me and I don't need a godfather."

It hurt to hear him say that, even with Sirius' forewarning and knowing that Harry couldn't be expected to welcome with open arms someone he's never known, not even his godfather. Especially as, according to Sirius, Harry claimed Snape as godfather, unaware of the true relationship between them. Lupin had to wonder if the vampires knew of Harry's true parentage, but it was unlikely. With Snape, Lily, and James dead, Lupin was probably the one person left with the right to decide whether Harry should know, but now was not the time or place and the information probably wouldn't be well received coming from him in any case.

"I understand, Harry. I didn't really expect you to instantly welcome me into your life, not after everything Sirius told me, but your parents named me godfather and I owe it to their memory to see for myself that you're safe and well cared for."

Harry softened slightly at that and his hand finally fell away from his wand. "I am. I'm safe and happy here."

"I'm glad. That's all your parents ever wanted for you." All three of them, Lupin didn't say. "I think we'll leave now."

"A good idea, Mr Lupin," Gabriel Valentine said, speaking for the first time. Sirius scowled at him, fingering his wand in his pocket, but Lupin made no argument, just lifted his eyes to meet the vampire's.

"Thank you for looking after my godson, Lord Valentine," Lupin said. Gabriel's eyes flickered in surprised suspicion and Lupin looked to his wife. "And to you, Lady Valentine. I'm grateful that someone did what I couldn't. Goodnight to you all."

He bowed his head slightly, ignoring the wolf growling in his chest at bowing his head to vampires, and turned away, tugging at Sirius' elbow to get him to follow. He could feel the Valentines' eyes on his back, and smiled a little at knowing they must be as irritated by his irrefutable politeness as the wolf was.

The butler waited just outside the room, but Lupin paused at the door to look back. Everyone tensed, apparently afraid that he was suddenly going to change his mind and attack or try to get to Harry or something. Harry and Sirius both reached for their wands and Gabriel was clearly ready to pounce, but all Lupin said was, "Happy birthday, Harry. For tomorrow."

"That's it?" Sirius said when they were out and walking down the drive to the street from which they could Apparate. "You're really accepting Harry living there that easily?"

"What choice do I have, Sirius? I'm in no position to take him away. I want to hear what Dumbledore has to say about it, but beyond that I have to trust that Harry, and you and Dumbledore, know what's best for him. I will probably never be happy with it, but there's nothing I can do and for now I need to sort out myself."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Are your sister's friends already here?" Theo asked Harry after disembarking from the Knight Bus and exchanging greetings.

Harry nodded, leading him up the driveway towards the Manor. "They arrived just after lunch."

"Happy belated birthday, by the way. I brought you a present; it's in my suitcase, I'll give it to you when we get there. Did you get anything good yesterday?"

Harry grinned broadly. "Oh yeah. I got a Firebolt."

Theo's jaw dropped. "Seriously? Whoa. You lucky son of a hippogriff. A real Firebolt?"

Harry nodded vigorously, still grinning. He'd spent most of the day before on it, zooming all around the grounds and over the top of the house itself, delighting at how well the top of the line broomstick flew. He'd hoped for a new broom to replace the one that was blown away and lost during the Azkaban breakout, but he hadn't expected a Firebolt.

"I hear the entire Irish national team are riding them in the World Cup. Are you going?" Theo asked.

"Hell yeah!" He'd realised after a few days that this was the late-August outing Lorna mentioned on the day the parents came to visit. "It's going to be great. Are you?"

"As long as my father doesn't change his mind before then."

"Would he do that?"

"Maybe," Theo said, then seemed to realise he was actually talking about his homelife and hurriedly asked, "Do we have any plans for the week?"

"Not really. Tori wants to go horse riding and her friends seem keen on that."

"I don't know how to ride a horse," Theo said, looking alarmed.

"Don't worry, we don't have to go. I don't like it much anyway. We can go swimming, or flying—I still have my old Comet Two-Sixty; you can borrow that—or do whatever. Oh, but I think we're going to Alton Towers one day."

"What's that?"

"Muggle theme park."

"What's a theme park?" he asked, then before Harry could answer, added, "Whoa, this place is even bigger than Malfoy Manor," he said, gaping up at it.

"You've been to Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked, surprised.

"A couple of times. My father's an old friend of Lucius Malfoy, but we haven't been since Mrs Malfoy was arrested."

They headed inside where Gabriel and Lorna waited to greet Theo and inform them that the girls were in the swimming pool if they wanted to join them. Harry showed Theo up to his room first. Although they had numerous extra bedrooms, Theo was sharing with Harry, and Lisa and Padma were in Tori's room, because Gabriel and Lorna thought they might feel safer sleeping together. Even though their friends were happy to stay in the house of vampires, Gabriel and Lorna knew that night could conjure fears in people they didn't realise they had, and they didn't want to be responsible for the guests becoming too scared to sleep and too afraid to leave their rooms to seek reassurance from Harry or Tori.

"I didn't bringing any swimming gear," Theo told Harry as they headed up.

"I've got some spare swim shorts you can borrow."

"Oh... um, I'm not really a big swimmer, actually. I don't mind sitting by the pool though."

Harry started to ask why Theo didn't swim then it occurred to him that maybe the other boy didn't know how and he was too embarrassed to say. "Sure, or we can do something else, I don't mind."

Theo gave him a grateful smile. They dumped his suitcase in Harry's room, which now had an extra bed tucked in the corner, then Harry started showing him around. They stopped by the swimming pool on the way outside to say hello to Tori, Lisa, and Padma. The former was in the water when the two boys got there, but Padma and Lisa were on the inflatable turtle, although when they saw Harry and Theo, Lisa squealed and fell off. She surfaced again a moment later, spluttering and grabbing at the turtle but remaining in the water.

"Hey, Harry!" Tori called. "Hey, Nott. Aren't you guys coming in?"

"Er..." Harry said, dragging his gaze away from Padma, who smiled shyly and tossed her wet plait over her shoulder. "Another time. I'm showing Theo around at the minute."

They moved on through to the door that led outside, dodging a splash of water from Tori as they passed, and the moment the doors shut behind them, Theo looked sideways at Harry.

"Something you want to tell me?"

"What? No. What?"

"Padma Patil... you've got a crush on her."

"No I don't!"

Theo was grinning slyly. "You were looking at her."

"She's was there!" Harry said defensively. "Of course I was looking at her. It'd have been rude not to."

"But you were _looking_. You were getting flustered about seeing her in a bikini."

"I-I just didn't expect... you know... didn't think..."

"Didn't think she'd have boobs? She's is a girl. They get them at our age."

Harry scowled at him, though he preferred being mocked to being teased about having a crush that he didn't have. "I know that. It's just different seeing them— _her_ —in a bikini instead of in school robes or Muggle clothes. But I don't fancy her. I just think she's pretty, that's all."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

"No. I think lots of people are pretty."

Theo was frowning now, slowing as they walked through the main garden in the vague direction of Gabriel's rose garden. "If you find people pretty but don't fancy them, then what makes someone fancy a person?" he asked, surprising Harry. He thought Theo understood not fancying people better than Harry did; he'd seemed very sure of himself before. "If you find someone pretty and don't fancy them, how do you know when you _do_ fancy someone?"

"When you want to kiss them," Harry said, trying to sound more sure and knowledgeable than he really was, "or hold hands together and call each other boyfriend or girlfriend."

"But if you think someone's pretty, doesn't that mean you want to kiss them?"

"No," Harry said more surely. "It just means you like looking at them. Like I find these roses pretty, but I wouldn't want to kiss them, would I? It's like that. I thought you knew this," he said as Theo frowned at the roses and considered the analogy. "You told me before you don't fancy people."

"I don't. I'm just asking about other people. I don't understand it when all the others go on about this stuff, to be honest. So, er... you don't fancy anyone either?"

Harry shook his head. "Mum and Dad said maybe I'm a 'late bloomer', but I don't think I am. I think I just don't fancy people."

Theo gave him a sidelong look. "You talked to your parents about it?"

Harry flushed, rubbing at his scars. "Um, yeah, sort of. When it was decided that you and Tori's friends could come over, they gave us The Talk."

" _Oh_."

"Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. But I figured I should mention the not fancying people, in case it meant there was something wrong with me."

Theo stopped short. "And?"

"And they said it doesn't. They said I might be a late bloomer or I might just not be interested in relationships and stuff. They've known other people who are the same. A couple of the nest vampires are."

"But they've known humans too?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Theo shrugged and they resumed walking. "Sometimes I thought there was something wrong with me," he admitted. "I didn't care, but I thought maybe there was damage in my head or something. But if they say there are other people who are the same..."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with us," Harry told him. "I think we're just in a minority."

"Good to know. So, this theme park you mentioned? What is it?"

Harry explained as they walked on, enjoying the summer sun. Theo wore robes, but he didn't seem bothered by the heat so Harry assumed they had cooling charms on them. They passed through the rose garden, alongside the horse paddock, and around the stables. Here, Theo put a hand in his pocket, glanced around, and asked, "Vampires have a really good sense of smell, don't they?"

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "Why?"

Glancing about again, Theo withdrew a tobacco tin from his pocket. "How do your parents feel about cigarettes?"

Harry gaped as he opened the tin, showing a pouch of tobacco, some rolling papers, filters, and three pre-rolled cigarettes. "You smoke?" he asked in a hushed voice even though he was sure they were alone. It wasn't like the vampires could come out and they had seen Jennifer in the kitchen earlier with Ada Khaler, the cook/driver, who Jennifer was dating now. Plus they were mostly hidden by the stables; only a few windows of the east wing were able to see them, and they were far enough from the house that even vampire eyes wouldn't be able to properly make out what they were doing.

"Yeah," Theo said with a shrug. "It's no big deal."

"But they're really bad for you. They give you cancer and heart disease and they can kill you."

"Do they?" he said, looking surprised. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Jennifer. She was my tutor before Hogwarts; she covered them in health classes."

"Oh." Theo looked at the cigarettes thoughtfully, then shrugged. "My great-grandfather smoked and he lived to a hundred and sixty-three; I'm not worried. I just don't want your parents punishing you if we go back smelling of smoke, or telling my father about it."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I know a spell that'll get rid of the smell completely. You can smoke one if you want."

Theo raised his eyebrows. "You're going to risk expulsion just so I can have a fag?"

"God no. The Ministry made an exception for me to use magic outside of school because I passed my NEWTs."

"But you've only got three!"

"Yeah, but they're the three that involve spell casting, aren't they? As far as wand work goes, I'm a fully qualified wizard so they let me."

"No fair," Theo grumbled, but took up Harry's offer and removed one of the cigarettes, putting it between his lips and pocketing the tin again then pulling out a box of matches to light it with. Harry watched him, a little curious. Gabriel and Lorna had never said much on the topic of smoking, and all Jennifer had ever taught them was the risks it came with.

"Doesn't your father notice the smell when you smoke at home?"

Theo shook his head, tilting his head back and blowing a smoke ring into the air above them, smirking slightly when he saw Harry's impressed look. "He smokes as well, so he never notices."

"He smokes but he wouldn't let you?"

Theo just shrugged. Harry watched him a little longer, but the cigarette seemed to be putting Theo in a fairly good mood so he risked saying, "I was a bit surprised your father let you come. I wasn't sure he would."

Rather than change the subject like he normally did, Theo watched through the stable as Jupiter munched on some hay. "Neither was I, to be honest, but something's different about him now."

"Different how?"

"I think he's been cursed. It's no big deal," he added, noticing Harry's surprise out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm glad."

"You're glad your father's been cursed?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you think he's cursed?"

"We had a visitor. The day before your letter came, actually. I don't know who it was, but they spoke to my father alone for about fifteen minutes then left and ever since my father's been acting different. Less of an arsehole. I'm pretty sure he never would have let me come over before, but now I think he'd let me get away with murder. Not that I'm willing to push him that far, just in case, but still. I don't know who that visitor was, but I wish I did so I could send them something as thanks."

"But they cursed your dad."

Theo shrugged. "Like I said, it's a good thing. Just don't go around telling anyone."

Harry nodded, although he wasn't sure it was really a good thing if Theo's father was cursed, but it was the most Theo had ever said about his home life so Harry didn't want to argue with him; it'd put Theo into one of the bad moods he usually got into when his home life was brought up at school.

Theo held out his cigarette. "You want to try?"

"Er..." He wasn't sure. He didn't really like the smell coming from it, but he was sort of curious. "Doesn't it taste gross?"

"You get used to it."

"Alright," he agreed hesitantly. He took it between two fingers, cautiously lifted it to his mouth, and inhaled deeply, only to choke and cough as the smoke seared his throat. Theo laughed.

"Don't worry, that happened to me, too, the first time. Try again."

"Why would I want to do it again?" Harry asked, looking at him as though he was mad.

"Because it's not so bad if you actually do it right. Look, here." He took the cigarette back. "You don't try to inhale it straight to your lungs, alright? That's for smoking joints."

"Joints? You mean marijuana? You've smoked that too?"

"A few times. But cigarettes—you pull some into your mouth first, then you hold it there while you take the cigarette out, then you inhale it all the way to your lungs. Like this."

He demonstrated, but as he wasn't see-through Harry couldn't really see what was going on inside him and he wasn't sure he really got it. Nevertheless, he took the cigarette again when Theo offered it and had another go. It still seared his throat slightly, but he managed to restrain himself to just a few coughs.

"There, not so bad."

"Still tastes kind of gross," Harry said, but he supposed it wasn't completely terrible once you got used to it.

* * *

"I'M GOING TO DIE!"

Harry said nothing. His teeth were clenched tight, his eyes squeezed shut, and his fists were clamped tightly around the handholds attached to the harness of the roller coaster seat. Next to him, Theo started screaming at the first drop and didn't stop until the ride delivered them to a juddering halt at the boarding platform. Harry disembarked on unsteady legs, but Theo staggered badly, was caught by the ride supervisor, and swiftly bent over a bucket as he emptied his stomach.

"This happen often?" Harry asked a little weakly. His own stomach was queasy, but he thought he would keep his breakfast down.

"Often enough," the supervisor answered brusquely. "Alright there, lad?"

"... f'kin' Mug's tryin' kill me..." Theo mumbled.

"I think the ride shook his brain up," Harry said. "I'll take him to go find a bench."

"There's one at the base of the steps," the supervisor said, checking Theo had finished emptying his stomach before letting Harry lead him down the exit. Lisa was waiting for them at the bottom and gave Theo a sympathetic look as he collapsed onto a bench still looking green.

"Not a fan of roller coasters, Theo?"

Theo shook his head then stopped quickly, groaning.

"Where's Tori and Padma?" Harry asked. Lisa jerked a thumb at the hut by the exit.

"Getting photos."

"Photos?" Theo repeated weakly. "Someone took pictures of us on the ride? I didn't agree to that."

"It's automatic," Lisa explained. "There's a camera halfway down the second drop; it takes a picture of every single cart every time it goes around."

" _Why?_ "

"So people can see themselves. Look."

Padma and Tori were coming back, clutching three separate photos. Padma handed one to Lisa, who grinned when she looked at it, and Tori showed Harry her's. The carts held six people each, so the photo showed all five of them and the lone middle-aged man who'd been stuck in with them to fill the seats. Harry's face was screwed up, Theo was screaming in clear horror whilst Padma screamed in delight, and Lisa and Tori just looked as if their faces were being blown off.

"Why would you want a picture of that?" Theo asked, looking at it in horror.

"Because!" Tori said, and just smiled at his expression of incomprehension.

"I want another go," Padma said, grinning widely and patting at her windswept hair. "That was _excellent_."

"We haven't been on the other one yet," Lisa countered. "Let's go on that."

"I think Theo needs to stay sitting for a bit," Harry said.

"We'll split up. He's obviously not going on any more of the good rides."

"Our parents said we have to stay together," Harry countered. It was one of the conditions of their being allowed to go around Alton Towers without Jennifer and Ada accompanying them. Harry and Tori still loved their daylight guardian and liked Ada well enough, but they were fourteen now and didn't want adults tagging along while they were out with their friends. It'd make them look like little kids that couldn't look after themselves.

Lisa scoffed. "They're not going to know. It's not like they followed us here."

Harry caught Tori's gaze. They knew Jennifer and Ada _had_ followed them here. They'd caught sight of the two trailing after them less than an hour after they entered the park, Jennifer dressed in shorts and t-shirt with her hair tied in a loose ponytail, which compared to her usual Victorian dresses and tight updos was almost as good as a Disillusionment Charm. It was a bit annoying, but not all that surprising. Gabriel claimed Aurelia was using human agents so he was almost as concerned about Harry and Tori being out in daylight as after dark. They hadn't brought it to their friends' attention, but if the five of them split up then Jennifer and Ada would definitely tell their parents later.

"Give us five minutes," Harry decided. "The other coaster is on the other side of the park, isn't it? Can you manage walking after five minutes rest?" he asked Theo.

"Probably. Anyone got some water?"

No one did, but there was a drink stand just opposite them so Lisa and Padma joined the queue to get them all some drinks. By the time they came back, Theo was up to moving so they started on their way across the park.

It was the third day of Theo, Lisa, and Padma's visit and they'd worried that the trip to Alton Towers would be ruined by the summer storm that came in the night before. Fortunately it broke by morning, replaced by blazing sunshine and heat. Theo and Padma, both pureblood, were intrigued by the park at first. But while Padma's excitement only grew with each ride, Theo no longer seemed quite so keen on it. He'd been fine with the first few rides, but the roller coaster left him wary of everything. Harry wasn't particularly keen on them either, so he didn't mind sitting with Theo to wait for the girls as they went on the second roller coaster.

Theo smoked as they waited. He offered Harry one, but he shook his head. He still wasn't sure of his parents' opinions on smoking and he didn't want Jennifer reporting back to them that he'd taken up a bad habit. Not that he had, but he had smoked a whole cigarette himself the day before, hiding out behind the stables again with Theo. It wasn't so bad the second time around.

"Why not? You had one yesterday."

"Just don't fancy one today," Harry told him, not wanting to mention that they were being followed. "You realise I can't do a Freshening Charm on you before we get back to the Manor?"

Theo shrugged, tapping ash into the handily placed ash tray set into the rubbish bin beside the bench. "Most of the smell will probably disperse before we go back and anything that lingers I can blame on someone else."

Put off as he was by the roller coaster, Theo did go on some of the less vigorous rides and he seemed to enjoy himself well enough, though he did say it wasn't an experience he cared to have again.

The week seemed to pass in a flash. The girls got in trouble when Lisa convinced Padma and Tori to try and sneak into the east wing—to which the nest were confined for the week, to appease the Patils' concerns more than anything else—because she'd read a Muggle book that somehow convinced her that vampires were highly romantic, tragically misunderstood creatures and she wanted to meet some other than Gabriel, Lorna, and Edward. Harry and Theo spent a lot of time watching TV and videos, which Theo was fascinated by, and all of them swam except Theo, who would sit by the pool scribbling away in a notebook, refusing to answer when anyone asked what he was writing and, when asked why he didn't come in the pool, said he just didn't like swimming.

"Can you not?" Lisa asked him. "You don't have to be embarrassed if you can't."

"Of course I can swim," Theo told her. "I just don't like to."

The girls obviously didn't believe him, but Harry had other suspicions. He'd never noticed it at Hogwarts, but in the week Theo had stayed with him Harry realised that Theo never undressed in front of anyone. He took his clothes into the bathroom whenever he showered and if he wasn't bathing then he changed while Harry was in the bathroom. Harry probably wouldn't have given it much thought if he wasn't grateful for the fact that it meant he could change unseen as well, hiding the scars on his back and legs which he still preferred not to let anyone see. It made him wonder if Theo had scars, or maybe a birthmark, that he didn't want anyone to see.

On the last night, the five of them stayed up late, hanging out in Harry's bedroom to prolong the time they got to spend together. Harry's wasn't sure why they'd ended up his bedroom instead of Tori's or somewhere else, but he didn't really mind, although Padma called his sketch of Snape creepy and Lisa was a little freaked out by Samantha and made Harry promise not to let her out of her terrarium. They and Theo were all suitably impressed by Lego Hogwarts and he left it sat open and conjured a swarm of butterflies, several of them taking refuge in the castle. They had snacks and drinks, including butterbeer, but at one point Tori scurried across to her own bedroom and came back with a bottle of wine.

"I snuck it out of the kitchen earlier," she said, sitting back down on a pillow and waving the bottle at Harry. "Figure we should have some fun. Open, please."

Harry took it a little hesitantly. "You don't think Ada will notice it's missing? Or Mum and Dad?"

"Pfft, no. Mum and Dad never go in the kitchen, and Ada won't care. Open!"

Still unsure but not wanting to get called a wet blanket, Harry tapped his wand to the bottle and the cork popped out. He handed it back and let Tori pour some for everyone and sipped at his own. It was fruity, but with an undertone of something he wasn't sure he liked, presumably the alcohol.

They ended up playing truth or dare, which lead to Harry telling them that he'd lied to Daphne Greengrass that he was gay, Theo making a surprisingly impassioned declaration of love to Jennifer while the rest of them watched from around the corner, Padma doing a circuit in the sky around the house on a Thestral she couldn't see, Lisa admitting to being bisexual and having a crush on Susan Bones, and Tori confessing that she'd never been kissed.

" _What?_ " Padma gasped, spilling wine down her front. They were more than halfway through the bottle by that point. "But what about the party with the Hufflepuffs in the secret room Justin found before the spring holiday when we all played seven minutes in heaven?"

"Yeah!" Lisa agreed, swaying slightly where she sat. The wine seemed to have gone to her head. "You snogged—snogged—who did you snog?"

"Terry," Padma provided. "You went into the cupboard with Terry and you were supposed to kiss."

Tori buried her face in her hands. "I know! But he said he didn't want to kiss me, and we knew you'd make us do the penalty if we didn't so we lied, and I've never had chance to kiss anyone else."

"But you were going out with Kevin for three weeks!"

Harry jerked around from where he sat at the window sharing a cigarette with Theo. Lisa and Padma complained about the smell, so he was twirling his wand in his other hand and generating a gentle breeze that blew the smoke outside. Tori was shocked to see him smoking, but promised not to tell their parents when Harry said he'd tell them about the wine if she did.

"You had a boyfriend? I didn't know that."

"It wasn't serious," Tori said dismissively, uncovering her face again and reaching for the wine bottle. "Like I said, we didn't even kiss and it's not serious if you don't kiss."

"We'll have to find you someone to kiss when we get back to school," Padma told her. "You're fifteen in December; you can't reach your fifteenth birthday without kissing someone."

Theo inhaled on the cigarette then passed it to Harry and looked around, frowning. "Why not?"

Padma looked stumped. "Because... just because. I mean who wants to reach fifteen without kissing someone?"

"I probably will. My birthday's on the second of September."

Padma opened and closed her mouth a few times, stuck for words, but Lisa piped up, "You should kiss Harry!"

Harry choked, dropped the cigarette, yelped when it landed on his foot, and fell over, coughing and spluttering.

"I don't think Harry likes that idea," he heard Tori say, amusement clear in her voice, but he was too busy trying to clear his lungs to respond.

"I don't like that idea," Theo said. "No offence, Harry. I just don't fancy you."

"None taken," Harry wheezed. He left Theo to finish the cigarette, which was almost done anyway, and crawled to their stash of food and drink to grab a can of coke.

"But I thought you were gay," Lisa said to Theo. "Someone told me you were."

"I'm not."

"Oh." She looked him over. "I'll kiss you if you like."

While Theo didn't choke, he did look startled at this offer, eliciting snorts of laughter from Padma and Tori. "Er, no. Thank you. I thought you fancied Susan Bones, anyway."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Don't you generally want to kiss the people you fancy?"

"I want to kiss everyone!" Lisa declared, throwing up her arms and then toppling over with a drunken giggle.

"You've had too much wine," Tori told her, crawling over and looking down at her friend.

"No, I haven't. I've only had—" she screwed her face up, thinking "—three mouthfuls."

"Three glasses," Tori corrected her with a grin.

"Actually I think it's more like four," Padma said, "and she hardly ate at dinner—"

"I'm on a diet!"

"—so it's probably gone straight to her head."

"Lisa, you don't _need_ to diet. You're not fat."

Lisa reached up and put both hands on Tori's cheeks, sighing. "You're so nice, Tori. Did I tell you that before? You're so lovely. I love you."

"Thanks, Lisa, I lo- mmph!"

Harry was glad he wasn't drinking then or he'd have choked again. He gaped as Lisa jerked Tori's head down and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Padma spit out the mouthful of butterbeer she'd just taken, and Theo paused with the end of the cigarette half raised to his mouth, staring at the two girls. The room was silent for a few seconds until Tori wrenched herself away and fell back, falling on her arse and clapping a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

Lisa hummed. "That was nice."

Padma burst out laughing. Harry looked to Theo, who shrugged and took one last drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall just outside the window, then Harry looked back to his sister. He had no idea what to say, but Padma's laughter seemed to infect Tori and she lowered her hand, smiling embarrassedly.

"Not really what I had in mind for my first kiss."

"Was it good?" Padma asked, grinning broadly.

"Not bad, I suppose."

Theo held out the cigarette butt to Harry, who didn't even glance over as he flicked his wand to vanish it so they'd leave no evidence for his parents to find. "Tori..."

"What?" She grabbed the wine and drank the last couple of mouthfuls straight from the bottle.

"I... nothing."

"What's the matter, Harry?" Padma asked. "Jealous? I'm sure Lisa will kiss you too."

"Imma kiss everyone," Lisa agreed, sitting up. She grabbed the wine bottle from Tori and didn't realise it was empty until she tried to drink and nothing but droplets came out. "Hey, who drank all the wine?"

"You did, you drunkard," Tori told her, though she'd had her fair share of it too. Harry decided he didn't really like it, Theo said he didn't drink, and Padma had only a single glass before returning to the butterbeers.

"I'm not a drunkard, you're a drunkard. Gimme a butterbeer then. Where's Harry? I'm meant to kiss Harry."

"No, that's okay," Harry said quickly. "I don't want kissing."

"'kay," Lisa mumbled, more interested in the butterbeer Padma shoved into her hands.

"Have you not kissed anyone either?" Padma asked Harry.

"Er, no. But I don't turn fifteen for another year so I've got plenty of time," he said, although like Theo he didn't see the big deal in turning fifteen without kissing anyone. "I'm going to get more snacks. Does anyone want anything?"

The girls shook their head (Lisa with exaggerated motions), but Theo said, "I'll come with you," and Harry hit them both with a Freshening Charm before they walked out. They didn't speak as they headed down to the kitchen, but as Harry dug through the cupboards in search of sweets and crisps, Theo spoke.

"You said people fancy each other when they want to kiss."

"What? Oh, that." Harry'd hoped the issue of kissing would be over when he left the room. "So?"

"Lisa said she wants to kiss everyone."

"Lisa's drunk."

"I don't think she's that drunk. She knows she fancies Bones, but she wants to kiss other people as well. I don't get it. If it's not kissing, how do you know you fancy someone?"

Harry straightened up with some chocolate frogs, a super-size box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, and a pack of Haribo. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe it's just something you know when you feel it. Does it matter? Do you _want_ to fancy someone?"

Theo snorted. "What, so I can get pulled into all that rubbish about who fancies who and not being allowed to fancy someone because your friend does or some rubbish? No, thank you. I just don't like it when I don't understand something."

"You'll have to ask someone who actually fancies people then," Harry told him as they headed back up. "I don't get it either."

Lisa was passed out when they got back to his room, but they left her sleeping on Harry's floor, a pillow tucked under her head, and stayed up longer, chatting and stuffing themselves until Tori and Theo were both fighting yawns. Harry levitated Lisa over to Tori's bedroom, said his goodnights, and returned to his own room. Theo was in the bathroom and Harry changed into his pyjamas while he was gone then when Theo came back, already changed, Harry went to pee and clean his teeth and came back to find Theo tidying up the mess they'd made.

"I've got it," Harry said, flicking his wand to vanish the empty bottles and wrappers, and send the uneaten food to sit on top of his desk. When the room was at least moderately tidy, he climbed into bed, put out the lights, and was soon fast asleep.

* * *

It was horribly unfair, Gareth thought, that he was the one getting the shit beaten out of him when the woman he'd been indiscreetly feeling up in a back alley was the one who'd neglected to inform him she had a boyfriend. A great big hulking boyfriend who wore steel-toed boots. Not that he wanted her getting the shit beat out of her—he wasn't that kind of bloke—but he didn't appreciate getting his head smashed into a wall hard enough to make him too dizzy to defend himself even with magic for what was, in essence, her mistake. He was faintly thankful that she was at least shrieking at her boyfriend to stop, instead of egging him on like that creepy chick he'd once met who got off on seeing her boyfriend 'expressing his deep love for her'. Gareth wouldn't have minded if his 'deep love' hadn't left deep bruises on Gareth's insides.

"Hey!"

The blows mercifully stopped. The pain didn't. He'd noticed in the past few of weeks that the vampire blood he receiving during the Animancupium bonding had advanced his healing a little, but that small amount did nothing for the damage done to him now.

"Piss off. This has nothing to do with you."

"I'm making it to do with me. Back off before I do something we both regret."

"You're havin' a laugh, ain't you? Piss off, or I'll smash in your head next."

"Dave, let's just go, please."

"I'd listen to your girlfriend, mate."

"You think I'm scared of you? You think—"

Grimacing, Gareth reached out a trembling hand and touched Dave's ankle. He staggered, howling with pain, and his girlfriend shrieked again. "Dave! Dave, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Me ankle!" he yelled. "Me ankle, I broke me fucking ankle!"

"Shouldn' been tryin' kick my 'ead in," Gareth mumbled, dribbling blood down his face. He'd lost a couple of teeth to Dave's boots.

"You shouldn't have done that," a soft voice said, closer to Gareth's head. "He's a Muggle."

He looked up, struggling to focus on the wavering double-figure crouched over him. The alley's dim light didn't help. All he could make out was the figure was probably male. "Done wha'?" he asked, grinning bloodly. "Di'n' do 'nything."

"You broke his ankle."

"Wi' wha'?" He wiggled his fingers and grimaced. "No wand."

"You creeps! You hurt him, you hurt him!"

"Ow! OW! Get off me, you crazy woman!" There was a scuffle, a grunt, and then: "Leave off, will you? Go call an ambulance. There's a phone box at the end of the street."

"I'm not—"

"Go!"

Sniffling then hurried clicking footsteps moving away. Another figure crouched down by Gareth, who blinked blearily at the four wavering visages above him.

"Made a right mess of you, didn't he?" the new one said. Gareth thought they had dark hair. "Hang on... Martin?"

Gareth groaned. On the one hand, they'd rescued him from a beating. On the other, it was never good when someone recognised him and he couldn't even make out their features.

"You know him?"

"Gareth Martin. I told you about him, remember? Hold still, Martin. I can patch you up a bit while the Muggle's at the phone."

Given that his head was too fuzzy for him to do it himself, Gareth was grateful for the assistance, especially as his other option was letting the paramedics take him, which was a whole lot of hassle because he'd never established an official persona in the Muggle world.

When his saviour finished, his pain had eased enough to let him sit up and look about without seeing two of everything. Crouched by him were Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, the former clad in Muggle jeans and a leather jacket, the latter in robes and a cloak. Gareth spat blood to his side then wiped at his mouth.

"Thanks. Bit surprised though, Sirius. Always got the impression you didn't like me. Had a change of heart?"

"No," Sirius replied bluntly. "But I don't just walk away when I see a guy getting the shit beat out of him."

"Can you stand?" Lupin asked. "If you don't want to meet the paramedics we should leave. Remus Lupin, by the way," he introduced, holding out his hand and helping Gareth to his feet. The movement made him grimace, pain stabbing through his torso and legs, but he managed to get up and walk reasonably steadily towards the opposite end of the alley than he knew the Muggle woman must have gone; he was familiar enough with the area to know which street had the phone box that Sirius had sent her to.

"Gareth Martin, nice to meet you. Bit surprised to meet a couple of wizards in this area."

"You're a wizard," Lupin pointed out.

"Yeah, but I've never met one out here before and you pair aren't exactly dressed for the local night life."

Lupin smiled. "True. We were just out walking. I haven't been able to get out much in recent years; it's nice to get out and about even at this hour."

Gareth snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. Coma'll do that to you. How are you recovering?"

"Well enough." He looked Gareth over as Gareth rubbed at his jaw and grimaced, tongue probing the gaps between his teeth and not looking forward to the Skele Gro he'd have to take to get them back. "You don't look fit to Apparate. Where do you live?"

"I've got a flat in the wizard block over on Kensington. I can hitch a ride on the underground."

Lupin glanced over at Sirius, who was frowning, then said, "My place is nearer. I've got some painkillers and healing potions; why don't you come over for a bit?"

"Remus!" Sirius objected.

"What?" Lupin replied sharply, and Sirius quailed slightly but didn't back down completely.

"You don't even know the bloke. You can't go inviting strange men to your home."

"I can invite home all the strange men I like. You don't decide what I can and can't do, Sirius. Besides," he went on while Sirius was struggling to object without sounding like he thought he could decide what Lupin did or didn't do, "Gareth is a Hogwarts professor. I may not know him personally, but if Dumbledore trusts him enough to let him teach then I can trust him enough to invite him home for a healing potion and a cup of tea. If you don't object," he added to Gareth.

Gareth glanced up as they passed the last night club on the street and turned into the next. On the roof, a figure crouched, barely a shadow in the night despite the street lamps and the glowing signs of the night clubs, and although he couldn't see their eyes he knew they were watching the three wizards and had been since they left the alley.

He lowered his gaze and smiled at Lupin. "Sounds great. Lead the way."

* * *

"What did Black and the werewolf want?"

It was the first thing Gareth heard after waking up in Lynott Manor. He rolled over and blinked blearily at the figure sat on the edge of his bed. "Wha'?"

"What did Black and the werewolf want?"

Gareth groaned, dropping his head back to the pillow and closing his eyes. "All-night threesome."

"Don't be impertinent, Mr Martin. Tell me what they wanted."

He sighed. "They wanted to know about Harry, which I'm sure you figured out all by yourself, oh master o' mine."

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth. He's happy and safe living with you, he's an excellent student, and he will violently resent any effort on Remus' part to force his way into his life. Happy?"

"Satisfied."

Gareth grunted. He waited for sound of movement, for the shift of his bed as the weight left it, but wasn't surprised not to hear any and he opened his eyes again. Gabriel sat on the edge, one leg bent up so he could face Gareth while the other hung over the side. He didn't move or look away when Gareth caught his gaze, but the slight frown on his face deepened. Gareth shifted, stretched, and linked his fingers behind his head, settling against the headboard.

"You've got that look," he said.

"What look?"

"The look that says you haven't figured out yet why you're drawn to me."

"I am not—"

"You followed me," Gareth interrupted. "Last night when I went out. You followed me all the way to London."

Gabriel pressed his lips together and said nothing.

"You could've stepped in when that dick started beating me."

"You were aided, and you're a powerful wizard. You could have defended yourself."

"He was a Muggle, and he'd already kicked the crap out of me by the time Remus and Sirius came along. Generally a person is supposed to look after their property."

"Property? You're a human being, Mr Martin."

"So were all the slaves you kept when you were human."

"I did not keep them," Gabriel objected harshly. "They were my father's slaves. I never had any."

"You would have, though. If you'd served your twenty-five years in the army, you would have gone home and had a household of slaves to serve you. You can't pretend to object to slavery after Binding me."

"You're a special case. You will always be a Slave, Mr Martin. The Binding on you can never be broken save by death. Permanent death."

Gareth snorted. "Special case? That's nice. You think that makes _you_ any better? You took me, my dear lord. You are a slave owner; there's no getting around that. Don't insult us both by pretending otherwise."

Gabriel didn't argue with him. "Have you attempted to kill any of your Masters to break your time loop?"

"Yes, but I can't do it. I can never make myself mutter the Killing Curse and with anything less instant, as soon as they hit the point of actually dying I can't make myself go any further. I save them."

"Even the most abusive?"

"They're the only one's I've tried to kill. Don't think it'd work anyway. Just because I've never killed a Master doesn't mean they haven't died."

Gabriel frowned. "The Bond doesn't break?"

"No. Not fully, at least. It snaps enough for the magic to lash back and kill me, but the time loop resets before the connection truly breaks."

"But your Master would be dead," Gabriel pointed out. "What is it connected to when you're in another timeline?"

Gareth shrugged. "I can never know for certain, but I'm pretty sure the timelines happen alongside each other, so when I go back to a new nineteen seventy-nine my Bond is still connected to the seventy-nine version of my Master in their timeline. It's the best explanation I can come up with given that in those instances where they die, I will die at that same moment in every timeline after until my Bond is transferred."

"You're something of a magical mystery, Mr Martin."

"Yeah, no shit."

"So explain it to me. Why am I drawn to you?"

"I'm a wizard." At Gabriel's look of incomprehension, he lowered his hands from behind his head and elaborated, "The Animancupium was designed for Muggles. When it's used on a wizard, it involves not only the Master's magic, but the Slave's as well. That twists it, makes it a little more two-way than it was meant to be. It's our magic—both our magic, not just yours—that binds our souls together, and as such you get some of the loyalty to me that I have to you. Just know that any desire you feel for me is barely a tenth what I feel for you."

"Desire? I'm a married man. Happily married."

Gareth raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I never said it was romantic or sexual. Not that I'd object in either case, 'cause you are a hell of a looker and nearly two millennia of sexual experience—" he noticed Gabriel's expression and hurriedly went on, "but its base nature is not inherently sexual. Our souls are bound together in some of the most powerful magic known to man; some form of desire is the natural outcome." He lowered his hands and looked at Gabriel curiously. "Didn't you feel it with the last one?"

Gabriel hesitated and Gareth guessed he was debating denying there had been a Slave before him, but seemed to decide there was no point. "No, I didn't. I did not like him."

"Oh, well, there you go then. If you hated him before the Bonding, then it would have just eased the hatred to dislike. But you never hated me. Distrusted, maybe; found irritating, possibly; but not actually disliked."

Gabriel didn't agree, but nor did he deny it. He stood up, moving to the door and pausing when he pulled it open, turning to look back. "Slave or not, that distrust can return, Mr Martin, especially if you continue to fraternise with the werewolf."

He didn't wait for a response, just stepped out and shut the door behind him. Gareth didn't voice the immediately rebellious thoughts racing through his mind. He hadn't lied when he told Gabriel that he was more likely to be good and obedient if Gabriel was a kind Master, but that didn't change the fact that after a few hundred years of being forced into being one person's Slave or another, his already natural belief that he didn't have to take orders from anyone had developed into a firmly rebellious attitude. His soul would never really be his own again; he couldn't help resenting the people that owned it and controlled him, no matter how much he accepted the fact.

Besides, it wasn't like Gabriel _ordered_ him to stay away from Lupin. He'd just heavily suggested it, and after several centuries learning to find the loopholes in direct orders, Gareth treated suggestions much the same way he treated free samples of poisoned liquorice.

* * *

On the ninth of August, Harry met Gareth in the foyer of the manor and together they Apparated to Spinner's End. After Gareth's mention of Snape's potion book, Harry started thinking about the house that now belonged to him and all the things inside it, and decided he was old enough to go and have a look. His parents agreed with some reluctance, concerned about Aurelia's people attacking him even in daylight, and only allowed it under the condition that Gareth accompany him.

It was strange to go back there. The house felt smaller than he remembered, but then he had grown substantially since he was last there.

He'd never gone back after the werewolf attack and so his subconscious had somehow latched onto the idea that the bloodstains would still be there. They weren't, of course. The carpet in front of the fireplace was the same old, threadbare brown he remembered. The backdoor was fixed, but the garden furniture was gone. He stood on the threshold, staring at the small patch of garden, rubbing at his scars as he imagined the wolf leaping out of the bushes, Snape crashing to the ground with a choked-off scream, blood splashing over the grass.

"You alright?"

He started, jerking his hand down and nodding without looking around. "It's not overgrown," he noted. The grass needed a cut, but it wasn't the mess he expected from a house unoccupied for seven years. The apple tree was still barren.

"I come here every year," Gareth said, sitting at the kitchen table. "Cut the grass back. I'll do that while you're going through Severus' things."

Harry nodded, taking one last look around before moving back into the house. There was no dust to deal with, everything protected by Dust Repellent Charms, and he started going through everything there. For the most part it was books. Snape's clothes were long gone, he'd never had much in the way of personal possessions, and most of what Harry remembered as bringing life to the house had been his stuff. It was as if Harry, books, and Potions were the only important things in Snape's life, and all that remained of the potions was a single silver cauldron.

But even the books weren't as numerous as they had been when Snape was alive and Harry remembered Gareth saying some had been donated to Hogwarts. He wondered which ones, wondered if any of the books he'd checked out for his studies had once belonged in this house and he'd never even known.

He found the copy of _Advanced Potion Making_. Gareth hadn't been exaggerating; every single page had been written on, either with some spell scribbled in the margins or comments on the potion instructions. He asked Gareth about them and, when the man said Snape's notes were improvements and the NEWT students still used _Advanced Potion Making_ , he set the book aside to take home with him. He found a few others as well, including Mirella Prince's diary which detailed her time under the vampire seduction in the sixteenth century.

His gut clenched when he found some books about demonology, but there was nothing there that he hadn't read before and after flicking through to see if Snape made any notes in them, he left them.

He hadn't thought much about the demon deal lately, but when he did he knew his feelings about it had changed. He wasn't sure how, exactly, and wouldn't be until he sat down and thought about it for a while, but his near death experience had made his view of impending death different.

He was almost finished when he came across something that surprised him. It was a book of family magic, spells to adopt and disown, to change the heir of a family title or fortune, and similar things. He didn't think much of it until he flicked through, as he did all the books just to see if Snape wrote in them, and found the page with a disownment spell on it. Scribbled at the bottom and underlined were three words.

 _Goodbye my son_

 _Son_. He'd never known Snape had a son. He'd never said _anything_ about family, except to mention that his parents were both dead and he was an only child. Gareth was the only family he had left. And, apparently, a child he'd disowned. Why? When? How old was this child now? Did they know their birth father was dead? Did they know anything about Snape at all? Who was their mother?

He took it to Gareth, who stared at the words for a long minute.

"Did you not know about it either?" Harry asked.

Gareth sighed, closed the book, and looked across the kitchen table at him. "I knew."

"Can you tell me?"

Again, Gareth was silent for a while, considering him. There was no food or crockery in the house, but Gareth had conjured up a glass of water for them each and Harry drank his, waiting for the man to speak.

Eventually he said, "Severus had an affair with a married woman."

"Oh. Is that why he disowned the child?"

"Yes. It was only a single night together that they both regretted. The woman confessed to her husband, went on to have the child, and they all agreed that it was best if Severus disowned the boy and the woman's husband adopted him and they would raise him as their own."

"Does he know? The boy, I mean."

"No," Gareth said slowly, watching Harry over his folded arms. "The child was never told, but his mother and adopted father died when he was still a baby."

"What happened to him? Didn't Severus take him in then?" Harry asked. Would Snape have done that? He'd been happy to look after Harry for four weeks every summer; surely he wouldn't abandon his own part-orphaned child just because he'd disowned him.

But Gareth shook his head. "Did Severus ever tell you about his part in the war?"

"Against Voldemort? No. Why?"

"He was a spy," Gareth said, much to Harry's shock. "He infiltrated Voldemort's ranks and provided information for the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group working against Voldemort. When the war was over, he was accused of being a Death Eater and only escaped Azkaban on Albus Dumbledore's testimony."

"I had no idea, but what does that have to do with his son? I get that he couldn't take his son while he was still spying, but what about after?"

"You have to understand that the world was not immediately safe after Voldemort's downfall," Gareth explained. "Death Eaters still roamed, people were still attacked and killed, the Aurors were still trying to capture them. And people perceived as betraying Voldemort—people who claimed to be under the Imperius and the like—were also at great danger. The Death Eaters now saw Severus as a traitor. On top of that, the child's mother and her husband were well-known for standing against Voldemort. They were both in danger; it wasn't safe for Severus to take the child in."

"They'd have attacked a baby?"

"Attacked you, didn't they?" Gareth pointed out.

"I guess. But... couldn't he have hidden behind a Fidelius Charm or something? I know it didn't keep my parents safe, but..."

"They didn't know how long it would be before it was safe. What kind of life would a child have growing up in a Fidelius Charmed house?"

He had a point there. "So what happened to the child?"

"He was adopted by another family. They raised him well. He's safe and happy."

"How old is he? Is he at Hogwarts? Do I know him?"

Gareth smiled, leaning back in his seat. "Ahh, you can't expect me to tell you all that, Harry. The boy was Severus' kid and he chose to disown him and leave him for other people to raise. You've got no right nosing into his business just because he's dead."

"I guess," he grumbled, but he couldn't help wondering. From what Gareth said, the child had been born before Voldemort fell, so he couldn't be any more than about eighteen months younger than Harry. And Snape was only twenty-one when Voldemort died. Surely he hadn't fathered the child any younger than eighteen, so the oldest the boy could be was two years more than Harry. So if the boy was at Hogwarts, chances where Harry had at least seen him. Maybe when he went back he'd start looking at the boys from third to sixth year and see if any of them had some of Snape's features.

He realised that _he_ fit all the things Gareth had said, but surely if Snape was his father then _someone_ would have told him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

A few days before the Quidditch World Cup, Gareth returned to Hogwarts to do the organisation for the new school year that he'd been putting off since his visit to Dumbledore a month earlier. He knew the match wouldn't last long; it was one of those things that didn't really change much, just a few goals here or there, the attendance of certain people, who and how much Ludo Bagman would double-cross in his bets.

Gareth's own presence tended to affect what happened after. It wasn't hard for him to add a small, widespread calming spell to the campsites that would stop the rowdy crowds that sometimes got out of hand in the post-game excitement, and he would boost the power of the Imperius Curse on Barty Crouch Jr. He didn't care enough to interfere and out him, but he'd make sure Crouch Jr. would stay firmly under his father's control, at least for a while longer.

But he wanted to get his school preparations done so he could spend the last week of the holiday encased in Lynott Manor getting as much time in close proximity to Gabriel before he had to return to Hogwarts full time. The ache of the Bonding had eased somewhat in the weeks since it'd been done, but it would still leave him antsy and restless when he put a few hundred miles between them, sensations that would grow the longer he went without spending time near Gabriel.

He could have got in and out of Hogwarts without confronting Dumbledore, which was tempting, but he knew he'd have to face the headmaster eventually. He did skulk into the school through one of the back ways, avoiding the main Entrance Hall. He got half-way through organising the new supply of ingredients for the student store cupboard before Dumbledore announced his presence in the classroom by appearing out of the shadows when Gareth opened a box of lacewing flies, placing a month old newspaper down on top of the jars before Gareth could pull them out.

The harassed, pale face of Preston Yaxley attempted to sidle out of the picture taking up a third of the front page only to get roughly dragged back into view by the Magical Law Enforcement Officer arresting him. The rest of the page was dominated by big black letters pronouncing:

 _DMLE CHILD SEX SCANDAL_

"You knew."

Gareth moved the paper aside, removed the jars, and took them to the cupboard. Dumbledore's footsteps followed. Gareth sighed.

"I wasn't a victim."

"I didn't say you were."

"It's what you were thinking though, wasn't it? My reaction when you said he'd applied for the Defence job and then a week later he's outed as a paedophile… what other conclusion would you come to?"

"Given what you'd told me shortly before I mentioned his application, there are any number of ways you could have learnt this information. I cannot deny the possibility of you being a victim crossed my mind—to another Yaxley, if not this one—but I did not consider it the only option. Is that why you've been ignoring me for a month?"

"I haven't been ignoring you."

"I have sent you several letters."

"I haven't been home," Gareth told him honestly.

"On holiday?"

Gareth finished stocking the lacewing flies and turned, but Dumbledore was blocking his way out. They stared at each other for a moment, Dumbledore refusing to move, and eventually Gareth sighed irritably. "I was at my Master's home. Do you mind…?"

Dumbledore stepped aside, watching Gareth unpack more supplies and store them. Gareth ignored him, but he knew better than to think this would make Dumbledore go away. The old headmaster was never so easily satiated.

"Was it one of your children?"

Gareth paused with an armful of rat tails. "Beg pardon?"

"Was one of your children victim to a Preston Yaxley?"

"Who said I ever had children?"

A faint smile graced Dumbledore's face. "I've watched you teach for ten years. You've got that way with children that says you've raised them before."

"How presumptive," Gareth said with a sniff, carrying on to the cupboard, but admitted, "No, none of my children have ever been victim to him, and none ever shall."

"But someone you knew was. It bothers you, Gareth," he went on when Gareth said nothing and avoided his gaze as he fetched the last of the ingredients from their boxes. "You turned that paper over. You left my office that day and outed him in secret, but you didn't mention it to me even though you knew I would find out eventually. Even if it hadn't hit the papers, I am Chief of the Wizengamot and Yaxley was a few promotions shy of heading up the DMLE; it would have come to my attention through the court."

Gareth rearranged the lacewing flies to make space for the last few pots of tubeworms then sighed, resting his forehead against the shelf conveniently placed for him to do so.

"I didn't do anything."

"About?"

"Yaxley. All my time here, and I didn't do anything about him."

Dumbledore made a soft noise of understanding. "This isn't your fault, Gareth, whatever you knew before. You were under strict orders not to interfere with the timelines you end up in."

"My Bond was transferred two weeks before I came to see you," Gareth muttered, still not turning to face Dumbledore. "Two weeks in which I did nothing about Yaxley."

"You can hardly be expected to deal with every problem in every timeline you visit, Gareth. In essence, you're a visitor here, a foreigner in—"

"No," Gareth interrupted harshly, finally turning to look at him. "No, I'm not. I live these timelines, Dumbledore. I'm as much a part of them as everyone else."

Dumbledore nodded. "I apologise, I worded myself badly. I did not mean to imply that you do not belong. But you've seen a lot of them. We can't expect you to solve every problem in each one. You're certainly a strong wizard, but you're still just one man and even you couldn't solve all our problems. It would be, I expect, quite exhausting even if you could."

Gareth stalked out the cupboard so he could slump in the chair at the desk at the head of the classroom and bury his face in his hands. He hadn't revealed the extent of his power to Dumbledore when he revealed his history to him; he still wanted to keep some secrets from the man.

"Where's the line, Albus? I did nothing about Yaxley until you told me he applied to work here, but I've interfered with other people. I've… had words… with some of the students' parents. I greased a few palms over Lucius' trial to stop him getting Kissed. But there are other villains out there that I'm doing nothing about, people who may or may not have committed vile crimes since November of seventy-nine. People I _know_ committed vile crimes during the war against Voldemort, because the things that happen before my time loop never change. I can name enough Death Eaters to fill every cell in Azkaban. Yaxley was one."

"Loathe as I am to say it, there will always be vile people in this world, Gareth. I strive to see the best in everyone, and I believe change is always possible, but I am not completely blind to the faults of man. There are great evils in the world that men will always engage in. Even you, with all your experience, cannot stop that. It's clear your focus goes mostly to the people you care about—Lucius, Harry, the students—but I say again: you are not responsible for every evil in this world, or any other you live through."

Gareth didn't know that he believed that. Sometimes he felt a responsibility to act on the information he garnered over the years, to use it to better the world around him, yet experience taught him that some of Dumbledore's words held truth—there were always great evils in the world and there were always people that would engage in them.

But at other times he saw no reason to interfere with a timeline that wasn't his, that would never be his because his was long gone and he had yet to figure out if he could ever get back to it. As much as he liked to say he belonged in the timelines he lived through, Dumbledore had a point. He was a foreigner in them, someone that didn't really belong, and nothing highlighted that like going to sleep on the night of the first of May 1998 and waking up in the cave over Hogsmeade on the fifth of November 1979. Sometimes he couldn't help resenting the people around him; why should he help out a world that he never even lived two full decades in?

"Sometimes I think I'm going mad, Albus," he muttered. "Fifty or more timelines—I haven't lived them all to the full nineteen years, but it's still a good seven or eight hundred years of experience. I know if I don't break my loop eventually I will go mad. Sometimes I wonder if it's already happening. Or happened."

"Oh, I think as long as you're still cognizant enough to wonder that, you're probably not mad yet."

"How comforting," he said dryly, then looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dumbledore looked down at him, blue eyes compassionate behind his half-moon glasses.

"We have a duty, as humans, to aid the people around us, to be kind, compassionate, and help them as best we can, but firstly we have a duty to ourselves. We cannot help others if we're not fit to look after ourselves. I cannot imagine what it is like for you to go through these timelines, but it is clear you want to help to some degree and to do that you need to be sure in yourself. I cannot say where the line comes of who to help and who to not; you must find it yourself, but don't overreach yourself or you won't help anyone, and that would be worse than helping only a handful."

* * *

Harry's parents didn't say anything about the smoking, but he came back to his bedroom one evening and found a leaflet about the various dangers associated with cigarettes, so he had to assume they'd seen him or smelt it or were just being cautious after Jennifer saw Theo smoking at Alton Towers. He read it, put it in his trunk to show Theo when school started, and otherwise didn't worry about it. It wasn't like he was a proper smoker. He'd shared a couple of cigarettes with Theo, that was all. It wasn't like he'd developed a habit.

He was more concerned by the news Gabriel and Lorna delivered to him and Tori a couple of days before the Quidditch World Cup.

"What do you mean Professor Martin's coming with us? Why?"

"Because your father and I say so," Lorna told them. "What's the problem? You like Mr Martin."

"Yeah, but it's… it's…"

"It's weird," Tori declared. "He's a teacher. Students don't go places with teachers in the summer holiday. What if our friends see us?"

Gabriel and Lorna shared a bemused look, then Lorna answered, "I'm sure your friends will understand that we need someone to attend the Cup with you in our place."

"But that's what Jennifer's for!" Harry cried, waving a hand at the aforementioned woman, sitting in a chair on the other side of the family room. "She's our daylight guardian and Ada's coming along. We don't need Professor Martin as well."

"You do when Aurelia is out there," Gabriel countered. "The Quidditch Cup would be an ideal time to attack you. Even in daylight, she will have human agents in attendance and we cannot know how long the match will go on. Your mother and I will be there at nightfall, in time for the match itself, but we cannot protect you in daylight and the rules put down ask attendees to arrive earlier in the day rather than precisely at match time."

"But there's going to be loads of security," Tori insisted. "They've been saying in the paper and on the radio. Half the Ministry of Magic is dedicated to managing the World Cup."

"They will have thousands of people to deal with," Lorna pointed out. "Jennifer, Ada, and Mr Martin will be focused purely on the two of you."

"We don't need them!" Harry said, anger creeping into his voice. He liked Gareth plenty, but over the past three years his relationship with the man had changed from the unnamed one of his childhood to that of a student and favourite teacher, and as Tori said it just wasn't right for students to be seen hanging out with their teachers outside of school. The trips to Godric's Hollow on Hallowe'en were one thing; that was more of an escort and there were no other students to see him. This was something else entirely. Not to mention: "I'm a fully qualified wizard, practically. I can defend myself _and_ Tori if anything did happen."

Gabriel's expression hardened at his tone and his words. "Like you did last time you met Aurelia?" he snapped, and Harry flushed. "The blood I gave you both last winter will help against the seduction, but it isn't a complete defence. A vampire trying to seduce several people at once will do so less effectively than against a single person, and Gareth Martin is entirely resistant to it."

"How? Why don't you teach us that?"

"Because it is not something that can be taught. This is not up to debate. Gareth will be accompanying you, or you will not be going. That is final."

He got up and left without another word.

"We're just trying to keep you safe," Lorna said.

"You're treating us like babies," Tori countered. "Aurelia's never even come close to us since she attacked Harry that once. You're over reacting. Do you even know she's using human agents or are you just guessing?"

"She's used them before. We're at war, Tori. There is no over-reaction here."

Harry scoffed. "War? What war? She snuck onto the grounds once and a few vampires have been killed. That's not war."

"Lorna," Jennifer said. The two woman looked at each other, Harry and Tori glancing between them, then Lorna nodded and Jennifer stood up. She removed the cloth choker she wore around her throat then undid the top of her dress, Harry and Tori watching baffled, and pulled it down to bare her shoulders.

Tori's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh!"

Over her throat and down the curve where it met her shoulders, Jennifer's skin was littered with bite scars, teeth-shaped mounds of pink and white flesh. Harry stared, subconsciously rubbing at the faded bite scar in his own throat.

"Jennifer, what happened?" Tori asked.

"I was grabbed off the street in May," Jennifer said, doing her dress back up. "It was daytime, I was shopping, I didn't think I was in any danger. Three people grabbed me, took away my wand, and took me to a place where I was held prisoner for several days. Aurelia wanted me to tell her everything about life here, about you two and your relationship with Gabriel and Lorna, about how to get to you. She and her vampires bit me, and her human agents tortured me using magical and Muggle methods. If Lorna and Gabriel hadn't found me, they would have killed me eventually."

Harry had no idea what to say, but he felt guilty now for so rudely brushing off her assistance.

"Aurelia does not just want your father dead," Lorna said, quiet but holding Harry and Tori's full attention nonetheless. "She wants to hurt him, and she will attack you, me, Jennifer and Ada, and our entire nest in order to do it. You have only heard of a few vampire deaths because that is all the news has reported and we didn't want to scare you with what has really been happening. But you cannot go on thinking that this war with Aurelia is not serious."

They nodded and Harry glanced at Jennifer again, thinking of the scars hidden beneath her clothes. She was a braver person than him, he decided, to continue living with vampires after they tortured her; he'd never be able to live with a pack of werewolves after what had happened to him.

He still felt some reluctance to be accompanied by Gareth to the World Cup, but he ignored it and said nothing when Gareth met them in the foyer after breakfast on the day of the match. Like Harry, Tori, and Jennifer, he wore Muggle clothes and carried a backpack. Jennifer, who'd forsaken her usual clothes for a modern summer dress, had their tent folded up and tucked in her bag. Ada wasn't coming with them just yet; she'd Apparate Gabriel and Lorna there later.

They said their goodbyes to Gabriel and Lorna and headed out. Although Tori was the only one unable to Apparate, there was a policy against side-along Apparition for the match so they were all taking a Portkey. There was one leaving from a clearing in the woods at the back of their house, in the area beyond the boundaries of their property, where South Arlett bordered North Artlett. They reached it to find a small group of people already there, including Harry's fellow Slytherins Tyler Swift and Cid Villiers, from the year below him.

"Hey! I didn't know you lived nearby," Tyler greeted, then noticed Gareth. "Or you, Professor Martin!"

"We teachers don't tend to advertise our home address," Gareth remarked. Jennifer glanced at him with a slightly raised eyebrow, but Harry and Tori were grateful he hadn't announced that he was their chaperone. They were introduced to Mr and Mrs Swift and their daughter Layla, who would be starting at Hogwarts that September, had to wait ten minutes in which a sprightly elderly couple turned up, and then the twelve of them squeezed together around a deflated rugby ball.

When they arrived, they split up after receiving the location of their campsite from the harried looking men on duty, the Swifts heading in one direction with the elderly couple, while the Valentine group headed in another. At the campsite, they paid the owner, got the position of where they could set up, and headed between the tents already pitched up until they reached a clear spot near the woods backing onto the field, a wooden sign stuck in the ground reading 'Valentine'. They were clearly one of the last groups of people to arrive and Harry was not overly pleased to find that the tent next to them was housing the Weasleys. He couldn't see Ron, Fred, or George when they first arrived, but Ginny sat watching her father fumbling a box of matches.

Both of them looked over when the group stopped and began unpacking their tent. Mr Weasley greeted them brightly, but Ginny squeaked a hello and turned bright red when Harry caught her eye. He look away quickly; she tended to do that at school, too, as well as knocking things over, and it was rather embarrassing.

"I don't think you should be doing that!" Mr Weasley called when Jennifer drew her wand to make their tent set itself up. Jennifer paused, looking startled.

"Excuse me?"

"Using magic! It's a Muggle campsite, you know."

Harry and Tori looked around at the mass of very obviously magical tents around them and then exchanged baffled looks, and Jennifer voiced what they were both thinking. "I don't think that's a problem, Mr…?"

"Weasley. Arthur Weasley."

"Mr Weasley. The entire place is currently host to wizards and the only Muggle is the man at the front, who certainly can't see me from here. I don't think a bit of magic is a problem."

Mr Weasley looked like he wanted to argue, but Jennifer flicked her wand and the tent set itself up. Inside it was a fully furnished flat with a kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. Jennifer set about boiling a kettle for some tea and when it was done they settled down outside the tent, Jennifer saying the weather was too nice to stay inside. Gareth and Tori agreed, and Harry reluctantly went out as well. He didn't want to have to interact with the Weasleys, but he had to admit it was rather amusing to watch Mr Weasley struggling to light the matches and getting over-excited whenever one of them did spark. He seemed determined to do things Muggle-style and eventually Gareth went over to help him light his fire, just in time for Fred, George, and Ron to come back with containers of water they'd apparently been sent to the campsite's tap to fetch. Jennifer had conjured theirs from thin air.

Although Harry and Tori made no efforts to integrate themselves with the Weasleys, Jennifer and Gareth spent the morning conversing with Mr Weasley. Shortly before lunch, three more grown-up redheaded men came stalking out the woods to join the group, having arrived by Apparition instead of Portkey. Harry and Tori recognised Percy, but the older two were strangers introduced as the eldest Weasley children, Bill and Charlie.

Their presence had the strangest effect on Tori. She was suddenly eager to join in the conversation, flicking her hair over her shoulder and looking at Bill with interest. It didn't take Harry long to figure out that she'd developed a sudden crush on the man; he thought he understood. Bill had an indefinable but irrefutable sense of _cool_ , something helped at least in part by the fang dangling from his left ear and the long hair tied at the nape of his neck, although his hair wasn't nearly as long as Gareth's.

Harry was more interested in Charlie, however. He worked with dragons and Harry managed to forget that he didn't really like the Weasleys in favour of asking Charlie about his work. He was a little worried that he'd be rebuffed, because of his age or the fact that Ron made no effort to hide his dislike of Harry, but Charlie seemed more than eager to talk about the animals he worked with. He never stared at or asked about the scars on Harry's face, either; he might already have heard about them from his younger siblings, but Harry thought he understood what it was like to be stared at because there was a large burn on the upper part of one of his arms, both of which were heavily muscled and on display because he appeared to have ripped off the sleeves of his shirt.

As Mr Weasley worked at the Ministry, several on-duty Ministry employees stopped to say a brief hello. Harry hardly paid them any attention until one actually came and sat down, dressed in black and yellow robes—Ludo Bagman. It seemed he was responsible in helping the Weasleys get their tickets and, due to the parties mingling, Harry, Tori, Jennifer, and Gareth were introduced after Mr Weasley pointed out each of his children. Bagman did a double take at Harry's name, eyes fixing first on his werewolf scars and then seeking out the lightning bolt, before fortunately being distracted by Fred and George's fake wand, which he found hilarious. He made a few bets with Mr Weasley, the twins, and Gareth, who for some reason insisted on going a little distance away to exchange words too quietly for the rest of them to hear. When they came back, Bagman seemed almost nervous and looked immensely relieved when Bartemius Crouch turned up. Amidst the bright colours, the witches and wizards in mismatched Muggle gear, and the general air of delight swarming over the campsite, Crouch looked almost out of place in his pristine business suit.

Salesman started turning up not long after Bagman and Crouch left. Harry and Tori both bought a pair of Omnioculars and a programme, and Harry also got a green rosette and a figure of Aidan Lynch, the Irish Seeker, while Tori bought a large shamrock hat and an Irish flag that sang the national anthem whenever it was waved.

Eventually dusk fell. Gabriel, Lorna, and Ada came stalking out of the woods almost as soon as it was dark enough to permit them out, and Harry didn't conceal his grin when the Weasleys realised their neighbours had just been joined by two vampires. Five minutes later a deep, booming gong sounded and they set off through the woods towards a gigantic stadium. They were still with the Weasleys when they reached the ticket-taker, and Harry was surprised to hear that the Weasleys had top box seats, the same as they did.

There were two rows of ten seats in the top box and the Weasleys took up eight of the front. Harry thought they'd end up behind them, but Tori, still enamoured with Bill, who was at the end of the row of redheads, snagged the seat beside him, so Harry, with a roll of his eyes, took the last front seat while Jennifer, Ada, Gareth, and their parents sat behind them.

Harry flicked through his programme as the rest of the seats filled up, half listening to the conversations going on around him. At one point he was aware of Gabriel, Lorna, and Gareth having a heated but whispered conversation behind him and when there was a lull in the noise of the top box he was able to catch Gareth saying, "… not a threat right now," then a murmur from Gabriel that Harry couldn't make out before Gareth replied, " _I'm_ making sure."

Harry glanced around, wondering who Gareth was talking about, but he couldn't see anyone remarkable. The only oddity in the box was the house elf in the second to last seat, who told people she was saving the last seat for her master, Barty Crouch.

Then, finally, Ludo Bagman came running in and announced the start of the match. The team mascots came out first—Leprechauns for the Irish, who threw gold coins onto the stands, and Veela for the Bulgarians, who Harry struggled to resist the lure of, even knowing what they were. They left him with a wild desire to leap from the top box, but he clutched the arms of his chair and remained seated even though he couldn't take his eyes off them, which made him feel smug because Ron Weasley had risen from his own chair with the attitude of someone about to take a long dive. He couldn't help booing when they stopped dancing though, and beside him Tori sighed wistfully.

"They are pretty, aren't they?"

"You haven't seen them angry," Lorna said from behind them.

And finally the match began. The fliers were better than anything Harry ever imagined, zooming around the field and executing moves that left the entire stadium in awe. The Irish team in particular were amazing but the Bulgarian Seeker, Victor Krum, left Harry equal parts amazed and jealous. He wanted to fly that well.

The game was over in just a few hours, almost disappointingly short but made up for through the excitement of the game itself and the fight that broke out between the leprechauns and the Veela. Ireland won, but Krum caught the Snitch, an outcome that apparently only the Weasley twins saw coming, for as soon as the match was done and the teams had come through the top box they scrambled over their seats and held their hands out to Ludo Bagman, grinning. Behind Harry, Gareth coughed, an innocent enough motion but Bagman glanced at him almost nervously as he dug in his pockets for the money he owed Fred and George.

They spent the walk back to the campsite eagerly discussing the match, going over each stunning move, and they stayed up late discussing it. Around them, the Irish were celebrating noisily, raucous voices singing loudly and the odd bang sounding through the night.

They had no warning before the attack came. One moment Harry and Tori were insisting they weren't tired and the next Gabriel stiffened, looked around, and the tent exploded. Arms wrapped around Harry and he was lifted off the ground and thrown through the air to land roughly several yards away, eliciting screams as he landed amidst a group of revelling young adults. He was hauled to his feet almost immediately afterwards and blinked at his mother as she patted him down.

"Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, confused but unharmed, and looked around. The cheers of delights that'd filled the air before were turning rapidly to screams as figures poured out of the woods. Harry didn't need telling to know they were vampires; they moved too fast and their focus seemed intent on him and Lorna, and Gabriel and Tori, who he caught sight of a little distance away.

"GET THE CHILDREN OUT!" Gabriel roared, voice carrying even over the increasing panic amidst the rest of the campsite, but the vampires had reached them. Harry caught sight of the unnaturally white woman he'd met before, bearing down from the sky as if she'd leapt from the trees, an actual sword gripped in both hands as she came down on Gabriel with an animal snarl.

"Get to your sister!" Lorna yelled at Harry and then shoved him aside as a male vampire leapt on them, grabbing that vampire by the shoulders and using his momentum to swing him around and send him flying away again. Harry focused on Tori and scrambled towards her, grabbing her by the arm as soon as he was close enough. She had a cut along her forehead but otherwise seemed unharmed, and he looked around wildly for Jennifer, Ada, and Gareth.

Jennifer and Ada came staggering from the direction of their ruined tent. " _Allonsy!_ " Jennifer cried, reaching them and grabbing a shoulder each.

" _Qu'en est-il Gareth?_ " Harry yelled back even as her hand tightened on his shoulder and he felt her try to Disapparate, but it was like the air had become solid around them. Someone had put up charms to prevent Disapparition.

Two vampires advanced on them. All four drew their wands; Tori hesitated, unsure of herself, but Jennifer thrust her wand forward and cried " _Reducto!_ ", while Harry jerked his upwards in a sharp motion and yelled " _Sectumsempra!_ ", and Ada twisted hers with a snarled " _Barathrum._ " Jennifer's vampire was thrown backwards, Harry's staggered away with blood bursting from its chest as deep wounds slashed across it, and Ada's screamed as a hole opened up beneath it and it went hurtling downwards. A second twist of Ada's wand and the hole closed up over them.

"DAD!"

Harry whipped around at Tori's scream. Not far from them, Gabriel was pinned to the ground by Aurelia's broadsword, the weapon buried half to the hilt through his back. Aurelia herself stood over him, blood splashed across her face and clothes, teeth bared in a foul grin, hands on the sword grip as she pushed it deeper and twisted it, and Gabriel roared with agony. Lorna was nowhere in sight and Harry raised his wand, aiming it at Aurelia, but before he could cast a spell Gareth came hurtling out of the mess of fighters and without even using a wand sent Aurelia hurtling into the air. He didn't look at her, but kept one hand raised as if it held her suspended in mid air whilst his other hand grabbed the sword and, grunting with effort, he drew it out of Gabriel's back.

" _Protego!_ "

Harry whipped around. A handful of wizards had surrounded them and only Jennifer's quick spell saved him and Tori from the spell hurled at their backs. He had to focus on fighting them, his arsenal of spells truly put to the test for the first time as he battled them off and tried to keep Tori protected, her own spell-knowledge not nearly enough to help her against full grown witches and wizard. He heard shouts and yells from his parents and Gareth, but couldn't spare the attention to look around and see what was going on.

A vampire crept up on them and he didn't notice until Tori screamed and he looked around to see a pair of fangs sink into her neck. They leapt backwards when Harry turned his wand on them, but took Tori with them, making it too risky for Harry to curse them.

Instead he aimed his wand downwards. " _Geler!_ "

The ground under Tori and the vampire turned to ice, unbalancing them. As soon as the vampire lost their grip on Tori, trying to steady themselves, Harry summoned his sister to him, making her stagger and fall to her knees beside him. He couldn't ask if she was okay; they were still surrounded by hostile wizards and vampires.

He set the vampire that'd bit Tori on fire, which sent them staggering wildly around, screaming, then turned his wand elsewhere. How long could they fight off their attackers? They needed to get to safety, but where and how when they couldn't Apparate?

But Ministry wizards started to arrive, fighting their way through the panicked crowd who'd fled from the attackers, and the number of people focused on Harry, Tori, Jennifer, and Ada reduced.

Then something seemed to distract the vampires. Harry, having just Stunned a witch trying to turn him to stone, looked around and saw Aurelia on her knees, hands clutching at her throat as blood poured down her front. Lorna had her hair gripped in both hands, holding her head back, and Gabriel stood before her with Aurelia's sword in his hands.

But before Aurelia could die, several vampires converged on them. Gabriel, still with a gaping hole through his chest, struggled to fight off even one vampire, and three jerked Lorna away. As soon as Aurelia was free, a man dressed all in black darted towards her, withdrew something from his pocket and touched it to her, and they both disappeared.

Their leader injured and gone, the vampires started fighting to escape instead of just to injure. Many of them fled to the woods and several humans followed, but they were more easily held back by the Ministry wizards. To Harry's surprise, Gareth pushed his way through to Gabriel, dragging along a stumbling witch who he thrust at Gabriel. Gabriel immediately sunk his teeth into her throat.

" _Détourner_ ," Jennifer said to Harry and Tori. «Your father wouldn't want you to see him kill.»

Harry didn't see why. It wasn't like he'd never seen someone die before—he'd _killed_ before and he might have killed two vampires just this night—but Jennifer forced him to turn.

Afterwards, they had the Ministry to deal with. They were intent on trying to lump Gabriel and Lorna with Aurelia's vampires and were particularly unhappy about the woman Gabriel killed. Harry felt a growing fondness for Gareth when he shouted in Gabriel and Lorna's defence, physically planting himself between the two vampires and the Ministry officials intent on arresting them. There was a lot of shouting and accusations, but eventually Gabriel and Lorna were grudgingly allowed to go free.

They came immediately to Harry and Tori, checking they were alright. They weren't happy to see Tori had been bit, but it wasn't a bad injury and when they were satisfied that was the only injury, they called over Gareth.

"We're going home," Gabriel said to them all. "Jennifer, can you Apparate Lorna. Gareth, with me. Harry, stick with Ada and Tori. You cannot go direct to the house, aim for the road at the front."

Tori mentioned the tent and their bags, but as they'd brought nothing that couldn't be replaced Gabriel refused to let them go looking amidst the ruins of the campsite, and they gladly returned home.

* * *

Gabriel sat in his throne and watched the last of his nest disappear through the throne room doors. As well as those that resided in house, many had come to see him that night, seeking reassurance that their leader hadn't been severely injured. He gave it to them and only when all but Lorna had left did he allow himself to grimace and rub at his chest.

The sword had nicked his heart, which always made for slower healing, and he'd be aching for days. An inch to the right and Aurelia could have utterly destroyed his heart, killing him on the spot, but she hadn't wanted that. Aurelia wanted him to die slowly, painfully. The attack at the World Cup had never been an attempt to kill him, just to hurt and cause fear.

He doubted he'd killed her, either; he'd have needed to take her head clean off for that. Injured as he was, he hadn't swung the sword as well as he could have and Aurelia's vampires would be able to help her before she died. He at least took comfort that she was probably in as much pain as he was and with any luck there was some nearly permanent damage to her vocal chords. She'd always been fond of her voice.

A knock came at the door leading to the east wing and he lowered his hand from his chest. "Come in."

It opened and Gareth entered, pausing at the entrance and approaching only when Gabriel gestured for him to. He stopped a few feet from Gabriel and Lorna and bowed low. "My lord."

"Stand up straight, Gareth. You disobeyed me last night."

Gareth paused in straightening up, so he stood half-hunched, and glanced up with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "Did I?"

"I told you to get the children out."

"There were anti-Apparition spells in place."

"Six weeks ago I told you that your foremost order from me was to protect my children. You focused on me, instead."

A sullen look briefly crossed Gareth's face and Gabriel could almost see the words _I saved your life_ darting across his mind, but he didn't speak them.

"I did not neglect them," Gareth said stiffly. "They'd have been ambushed far worse if I had."

"Tori was bit. Do not think your aid last night was unappreciated, Mr Martin," he said, and Gareth's gaze flicked away at the returned use of his surname, "nor the risk you took in bringing me someone to feed on in front of several Ministry personnel, but my children are the most important thing to me. They are the reason I Bound you to me, but it seems I did not make it clear enough."

He rose, suppressing another grimace as the movement pulled at his injury, and stepped up to Gareth, taking his chin in hand and holding it firmly until Gareth met his gaze. He could hear the man's heart pounding, faster than normal, betraying the apprehension he didn't show on his face. His hands hung loosely by his sides, but Gabriel could sense the tension in the rest of his muscles. He expected pain.

"Go home, Mr Martin," Gabriel ordered, and Gareth's eyes widened. "Go home, or return to Hogwarts, but do not return here, to my home, any time before the start of the new school term."

"But—!"

"No!" He tightened his grip on the man's chin and Gareth cringed. "I am grateful for your assistance last night, but you have to understand that _I_ am not the one I enslaved you for, and I cannot let it go unpunished when you disobey me."

"Can't you just beat me or something?" Gareth asked, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Twenty lashes to the back? Don't send me away."

Gabriel shook his head, dropping his hand and returning to his throne. "It's clear to me that pain means little to you. No surprise when you spent so much time harming yourself at your last Master's orders, and I expect a number of them _have_ beaten you, severely. A punishment should inspire a person to do better in future, not be something they shrug off when the pain has eased. Now go."

Gareth spun on his heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Gabriel slumped in his chair, sighing, then straightened up again. Slumping hurt more.

"I don't think he's very happy with you right now," Lorna remarked, taking his hand in hers and looking him over with concern.

"He's not meant to be." He sighed again, rubbing his chest, and eased himself out of the chair again. "Help me back to bed. When I'm better, we need to dig out the swords. If Aurelia's going for the old weapons, I'll need to practice."

"How long has it been since you used one?" Lorna asked as they headed towards the door into the main house. "I've seen you fencing, but I don't think I've seen you use a weapon like last night."

Gabriel had to think about it. "Over a century. I prefer guns to be honest—quicker, easier to handle and hide—but they're not that effective against us."

"No, I suppose not," Lorna mused. "Although, what about shotguns? They cause a mess, at least if the TV is to be believed."

"That they do," he agreed, holding the banister as they headed upstairs and wondering why he'd never installed elevators. Too modern for the house style, he supposed. "I can't say I've ever tried one. Maybe we'll buy one and give it a go. You'll need to learn how to use weapons as well; you're not overly familiar with them, are you?"

"No," she agreed. "I've never had need, but it sounds like fun, even if the reasons for it are not pleasant. I look forward to learning."

* * *

Gareth slammed the door of his London flat, an expression on his face that would make Medusa look away, and spent a good fifteen minutes storming around, kicking the furniture and breaking anything breakable that had the misfortune of being in his line of sight.

Banished! It was only a week, true, but still! He _hated_ being banished from his Master's presence. They never understood, could never understand, what it did to him, the emotional and physical pain it gave him to be sent away. And somehow it was worse, this time. Most of them sent him away because he was annoying them and they wanted some peace from him; no one had ever sent him away as punishment.

Clearly Gabriel understood at least a little more than Gareth's previous Masters had; he hadn't been wrong to say that punishment in the form of abuse or torture did little to deter him. He'd endured too much at the hands of various Voldemorts, Death Eaters, and even supposedly 'good' Masters who ended up thinking the only way to deal with his rebellious nature was to hit him with a Whipping Hex a few times. He had that effect on people. That wasn't to say he _liked_ it, but he had developed an attitude of _oh, here we go again…_

And it hadn't even been his fault. Gabriel had ordered him to protect Harry and Tori _at Hogwarts_. Even when he had Gareth attend the World Cup for their safety, he'd never actually ordered Gareth to ensure the children's safety above all else. Gareth had held off several of the witches, wizards, and vampires seeking to harm them, and while he could have protected them from more it tended to get hard to concentrate on multiple things when he had the ghost of a sword buried in his chest.

He didn't feel every injury his Master took, but he felt the bad ones. He didn't suffer the same damage, but he could feel them and an echo of the pain they caused. Aurelia could easily have killed Gabriel with that injury; was Gareth supposed to have ignored that? If Gabriel had died, Gareth would have died as well and done so with a magical outburst that could have injured or even killed the people around him—including Harry and Tori. He doubted Gabriel would have appreciated that.

His anger gradually eased somewhat, but his rebellion at being punished didn't. He cleaned up the mess of broken china and glass he'd made, then hunted down a pen and some paper and started a letter. He wouldn't outright disobey the order he'd just been given—Gabriel had been decent to him thus far and he didn't want to find out what Gabriel would come up with as punishment for disobeying a punishment—but there were other things he could do that Gabriel wouldn't like.

 _Dear Remus,_

 _I was wondering if you wanted to meet up for lunch some time…_

* * *

Harry and Tori's Hogwarts' letters came the day of the World Cup and they went to Diagon Alley a few days later, not bothering this year to make plans to meet with their friends given how there was less than a week left before school began.

Tori was more subdued than usual; since the attack she kept touching the healing wound on her throat and spent a lot of time shut in her room practising her violin. Harry didn't understand it until Lorna explained.

"Tori's been raised by us since the day she was born. She's always sort of seen vampires as nocturnal humans with fangs and an abnormal diet. Now she's seen the truly dangerous side of us and she needs to adjust to that."

Harry worried that 'adjusting to it' would mean being suddenly fearful of vampires, but after a few days she started to return to her normal self and seemed no more afraid of the nest vampires than before.

Harry's own biggest concern with what had happened was that he might have killed two vampires. It wasn't that he felt bad for killing them—they were trying to do the same to him and his family—but they were vampires and Gabriel had always made it clear that a vampire should be killed only as an absolute last resort; there were significantly fewer of them in the world than humans so their deaths were so much worse.

His parents didn't seem to have realised what he'd done, however, so he said nothing on it and tried his best not to think about how easy it had been for him. If those two vampires were dead, he was now directly responsible for killing four people. He probably should have felt bad about that, but Vernon Dursley was an accident, Voldemort was both self-defence and getting rid of a monster, and the vampires were pure self-defence. It wasn't like he was a cold-blooded murderer.

On the first of September, Harry sought out Anita on the train to Hogwarts and spent the journey sharing a cabin with her and Hermione Granger. Neither of them attended the World Cup, although Anita wanted to, and he spent half the trip telling them all about it. Hermione lost interest fairly soon—she wasn't really a Quidditch fan—and buried her nose in a book, but visits from various year mates kept their conversation going for most of the afternoon.

It was storming at Hogsmeade and they were soaked to the bone by the time they reached the Great Hall, something not helped by Peeves throwing water bombs at students in the Entrance Hall. Harry dried himself off with a charm on his way to the Slytherin table and was toasty warm by the time he sat down with the other fourth years, where he was immediately availed upon to dry them off, too.

The Sorting and feast passed normally; Tyler Swift and Cid Villier's sister joined them in Slytherin, to the two brothers' loud delight, and finally Dumbledore stood up to make his start of term announcements. The introduction of Sirius Black as the new Defence professor was a little surprising—Harry wasn't sure why an Auror at the prime of his career would choose to become a teacher instead—but not half as surprising as the announcement that the Triwizard Tournament was being held at the school that year.

"Are you going to enter?" Theo asked Harry on the way down to Slytherin after the feast. "You're probably the only person under sixth year who could get picked as 'worthy'."

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "Maybe. Could be fun, I suppose."

Dumbledore had said that an age restriction had been strongly considered by the Tournament organisers, but eventually it was decided that the champions worth would be determined primarily by the impartial judge. The unspoken words were, as Theo mentioned, that no one under sixth year would be considered worthy enough to be picked, but Dumbledore's gaze had flicked to Harry when he mentioned it and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the age rule had been axed to give him a chance to compete. Dumbledore was one of the tournament organisers, after all; he'd probably convinced everyone else to agree with his opinion.

He didn't give it much serious thought as the school year really got started. In Care of Magical Creatures they started studying things with XXX Ministry danger classifications and Professor Grubbly-Plank promised that they'd be viewing XXXX rated creatures later in the year, although they wouldn't be permitted to actually handle them. In Divination they studied star portents, which made Harry groan because he was terrible at Astronomy; he didn't see how he would figure out what the position of the planets meant if he couldn't even figure out where they were in the first place—and Trelawney still divined Harry's death, now blaming planetary position instead of tea leaves shaped like sharks.

Professor Babbling, the Muggle Studies teacher, told them excitedly that they were going to learn about electricity. Ancient Runes had advanced a little from basic translations to theoretical knowledge of runic magic, which Harry was quite interested in because it was actual magic that he didn't know. Arithmancy, however, had just become more difficult; maths and numbers had never really been his strong point and he was just as bad at figuring out the numerology aspects of it as he was at predicting the future from star charts. Fortunately, as Slytherins shared that class with Ravenclaw and Tori was taking it, he got her help (or, occasionally, just copied her homework).

He didn't have Defence classes, of course, but he heard from other students that Sirius was an excellent teacher and many were disappointed (though not greatly surprised) that he was only staying a year, as part of a sabbatical from his Auror work. Some people wondered if Dumbledore hired him to make up for hiring a Death Eater the year before.

"I thought people on sabbatical _didn't_ work," Harry mentioned to Theo one afternoon as they hung out behind the greenhouses, smoking. Harry was trying to make his cigarette last. Theo said he wouldn't give him anymore and that if Harry was going to take it up then he could buy his own. Harry muttered that he wasn't 'taking it up', but found himself wondering where in Hogsmeade he could buy tobacco. "They wrote books or travelled the world or something. Relaxed."

"Compared to hunting down dark wizards, teaching us how to do a shield charm probably _is_ relaxing."

Amidst all this, Harry was also doing some private study. Based on Oliver Reid's theory about destroying contracts, he was trying to find any information on where crossroads demons kept the physical copy of a contract—or if there even was one. He'd never signed anything, but all the books on crossroads demons did mention engaging in a contract with them, so he figured there must be something. Finding information was proving difficult, even when he snuck into the Restricted Section after hours, under the protection of his Invisibility Cloak. He began to suspect that the contract was probably held in hell, wherever that was, and that finding it might involve talking to actual demons, which he didn't really want to do. Now that he knew a great deal more about them, he was incredibly reluctant to talk to any at all, even the Crowley he'd first made his deal with.

That besides, he found himself a little less urgent about finding a way out of his deal, despite the ever closer deadline. Something about his near death experience that summer left him less afraid to die. He had stared death in the face, had accepted its inevitability, and even though he hadn't actually died, that acceptance hadn't really gone away.

As such, he didn't give much thought to the Triwizard Tournament until a notice went up announcing that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations would arrive on the thirtieth of October and the picking of the Triwizard Tournament champions would occur on Hallowe'en. Immediately after reading it, Harry went in search of his Head of House.

"Sir," he asked when he found Gareth in the staff room and asked for a private word, "is the Triwizard Tournament going to stop me visiting my parents' graves?"

Gareth shook his head. "I will still take you, but we will have to go earlier in the day. The champion selection will occur at the feast; I have to be in attendance so I'm afraid will have to take lunch at the pub, rather than dinner."

That was fine with Harry. Visiting the graveyard was the most important part anyway.

* * *

Gareth Apparated onto the street outside Lynott Manor, took two steps in the direction of the gate, and stopped. A vampire had just stepped out of the shadows of the wall around the manor grounds, their skin an eerie luminescent in the glow of the waning moon. When they smiled, they did so with all their teeth and he couldn't tell their gender. They wore black leather from head to toe and looked as if they should have been in a bad vampire romance film.

"Good evening, Professor Martin. Lord Valentine sent me to greet you."

"Did he."

"Yes, there's been… an incident. He asked you accompany me to a safe house. We have reason to believe Aurelia's people are targeting you."

"I see," he said. "I don't recognise you. Can you prove you're one of Lord Valentine's people and not one of Aurelia's?"

"Certainly," the vampire said smoothly, reaching into their pocket as they stepped forwards, gaze fixed firmly on Gareth's. Their other hand slowly reached out. "Now if you would just take my hand."

He took it.

And then broke it.

Whilst the vampire howled with unexpected pain, he conjured ropes with a flick of his hand and then, just to be mean, a bit gag. They toppled over, unbalanced, and he reached down to grab the back of their leather jacket and dragged them along the ground towards the gate, which allowed him entrance at a touch of his hand.

"Next time Aurelia sends someone to snatch me," he said to the vampire, "she might want to come up with a better plan than 'seduce him into coming along'. Maybe a bit of reconnaissance to find out more about the target, a.k.a. me. I'm utterly resistant to the vampire seduction, you see. And I'm telling you this only because I'm a hundred percent certain you're not going to be going back to her."

The vampire snarled and thrashed, but he had magic backing up his human muscles so their supernatural strength didn't manage to overwhelm him.

He dragged them halfway up the driveway then veered off down a side path and took them around to the east wing's entrance, avoiding the main house. By the time he dragged the vampire through to the dungeon room and chained them in, word had spread and he straightened up from securing the shackles just as Gabriel and Lorna entered the room.

"Selene was watching the cameras," Gabriel said, glancing over Gareth then focusing on the vampire. "She said you were attacked?"

"I wouldn't say attacked. This idiot just tried to kidnap me out front. One of Aurelia's."

"Get rid of the gag."

Gareth did so. Gabriel crouched before the vampire.

"You work for Aurelia?"

They said nothing. Gareth saw a flicker of movement between Gabriel's hand and the vampire's cheek, there was a noise like distant thunder, and blood spilled out of the vampire's mouth.

"Do you work for Aurelia?" Gabriel asked again.

The vampire spat in his face. "I will tell you nothing!"

Gabriel took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Is that so."

"I am loyal to my mistress!"

"Your mistress being Aurelia? No, I don't think so," he said when the vampire was silent, smiling. "No, I remember you. Not your name, but you were one of Elize's ladies."

"Elize Prideaux?" Lorna said, stepping forward. "Your ex-wife?"

"Mmm. So the question for you," Gabriel said to the vampire, "is what does Elize want with me right now? We might not have parted on particularly good terms, but she's never shown an inclination to come after me since that disastrous trouble with the giants at the turn of the nineteenth century. Is she working with Aurelia?"

"I will tell you nothing."

Gabriel stood up. "I'm sure you would, if I had the time and inclination to make you. As it is, you'll have to settle for telling Kieran."

"Who the hell is Kieran?"

The door of the room opened. An unremarkable looking wizard came down the steps, a large bag hanging from his shoulders that clinked when he walked and made a solid _thud_ when he put it down. His face was utterly expressionless as he looked down at the vampire.

"This is Keiran," Gabriel said. "I would say he's soulless, but I've seen the effect of the Dementor's Kiss so I have to assume there is one in there somewhere, but I can't be sure it's really human. You will, I'm sure, get along splendidly."

He turned and left, Lorna and Gareth following. Behind them, Kieran opened his bag. They heard the first scream just as they reached the door of a sitting room not far away. There were a couple of vampires lounging in two of the chairs but they left at a gesture from Gabriel, who seated himself on the sofa, Lorna beside him, their hands joined.

"Did Elize's lackey say anything to you?" Gabriel asked Gareth, who told him everything that happened outside. "So she probably is working with Aurelia. Why go after you?"

"They must have realised he has a connection to you," Lorna said. "Not the Animancupium Bond, but after the World Cup they must have realised he's more than just the children's teacher, especially if they've been watching the house."

"I don't like that," Gabriel said in a low voice, almost a growl. "There must be a blind spot in the cameras. We'll have to do something about that, and you," he said to Gareth, "can you disguise yourself when you come here? Turn invisible?"

"Yeah, that's easy enough. But I still don't see why you won't just let me go kill her. I can do it easy as piss, you know."

"I have told you why before. Aurelia is my problem; I deal with my own problems, but she will certainly wonder about you if she gets word that you're visiting here during the school term. You can sit down, by the way."

Gareth did.

"I meant in a chair."

Gareth shifted to get comfy on the floor, leant back against the sofa, and tilted his head up to grin at the vampire. "Shoulda been more specific, shouldn't you."

" _Why_ are you on the floor?" Lorna asked while Gabriel just shook his head and decided not to argue.

"'S where I belong," Gareth said unabashedly. "Slave, remember?"

"Yes, but you don't have to. Gabriel doesn't ask that of you."

"Doesn't matter. The Bond tells me to be subservient to him. Also—proximity. Can't get this close if I sit in a chair."

"You are a strange man."

"I'm not—alright, yeah, I am, but I'm a strange man in strange circumstances. Can you blame me for doing odd things?"

"It doesn't make sense," Gabriel muttered. He didn't seem to have paid any attention to Lorna and Gareth's exchange. His gaze was unfocused and the hand not holding Lorna's dropped to Gareth's head, stroking his head like he would a pet dog. "They're not stupid, either of them, but they send one vampire to try and kidnap someone outside my very front door?"

"She did try the seduction on me," Gareth noted, leaning against Gabriel's legs.

"Even so, it was a poor plan. Weak. They couldn't know you would be here tonight and there was a huge risk we'd notice and capture Elize's woman. Why risk that? What do they have to—"

The house exploded.

* * *

 **Credit:** The spell "Barathrum" is from 'A Guide to Spells, Curses, and Hexes' by Terion.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Gareth groaned when the door of his office opened. It was six am, he hadn't slept a wink all night, his body ached as if he'd been hit by a wall (which he had), and he could still smell blood and smoke even after showering for a full half hour. But he recognised Dumbledore's knock and Dumbledore's footsteps and he knew the headmaster well enough to know he wouldn't go away even if Gareth pretended to be asleep at his desk.

"Your new Master is Gabriel Valentine."

Gareth considered denying this, but decided he was too tired and sore. He nodded without lifting his head off the desk or opening his eyes.

"What happened last night?"

"Wha'd'you know?" Gareth asked wearily.

"Only that there was some kind of explosion at the Valentine home last night. Three casualties, but not, fortunately, Lord and Lady Valentine."

"'bout right."

"Gareth, you are clearly tired and injured, but if you expect any allowances for it then I expect a better explanation," Dumbledore demanded. "What caused it? How badly are you injured? Were the Valentines injured?"

Gareth sighed and, with what seemed excessive effort, lifted his head up and slumped back in his chair, looking up at the headmaster. "You ever heard of the Living Bomb potion?"

Dumbledore sat down abruptly in one of the chairs opposite Gareth's desk. "Good heavens. Who?"

"I don't know. She was a rival vampire, captured of her own free will." Fortunately, the Valentines didn't blame him for bringing her into the house in the first place.

"A suicide bomber for the vampire war. Were you nearby when it happened? How bad are your injuries?"

"Close enough. Nothing that won't heal; I'll just be sore for days."

"And the Valentines?"

"Scrapes and bruises. Lord Valentine was healed enough to be in a raging fit by the time I left. Most of the damage was to the house."

"At least we can reassure Harry and Tori their parents are unharmed."

Gareth grunted.

"Do they know you're Bound to their father?"

He shook his head. "Lord Valentine doesn't want them to."

"I can understand that." He paused, looking Gareth over. "Do you want the day off? I can cover your classes."

It was tempting, but... "No. The _Prophet_ already reported me standing up for Lord Valentine during the World Cup. We don't need them finding out I'm taking a day off after their house explodes and getting curious. Don't want the kids getting curious."

"Very well. You realise you'll need to inform Harry about what occurred before breakfast? We can't have them finding out about it from the papers."

"I've already asked the Bloody Baron to send him to me as soon as he's awake."

"Good; I shall go and inform Filius." Dumbledore stood and headed for the door, and Gareth almost let himself relax, but at the door the headmaster paused. "And we'll discuss your new Master when you're feeling better."

He left and Gareth slumped forward again with a groan, head hitting the desk with a light thump.

* * *

Despite the reassurances from their respective Heads of House, Harry and Tori didn't relax about the explosion until they received letters from home. They sat at the Slytherin table discussing it in Italian so as not to be bothered by their fellow students. The attack at the World Cup had been unsettling enough, but they were shaken by the thought of the vampire war hitting their home. Unfortunately there was little they could do about it, especially while they were stuck at Hogwarts, and eventually Tori changed the topic to the one that everyone had been fixated on again since the announcement of the imminent arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

"Are you entering your name for the Tournament? I am. I probably won't get picked, but it still looks good just to enter, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Harry said, surprised. "What if you do get picked?"

She scoffed. "It'll never happen. Sarah Cashore is entering. Even if it was just me and her, why would the judge ever pick _me_ over her? She's a seventh year and Head Girl. They're not going to pick a bog standard fourth year over that, are they?"

"You're in the top five of our year group," Harry said kindly.

"Yeah, but that's still not seventh year standards. Even the sixth years would be better than me, and loads of them are applying—Roger Davies, Matilda Redgrave, Cedric Diggory, Fred and George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, Nina—"

"How do you know all this?" Harry interrupted, amazed.

"Oh, I hear things," she said with a smile. "So, are you applying?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why wouldn't you? You get to prove to everyone how amazing you are and everyone will love you."

"I'm not sure I want everyone to love me. What do I get out of that? People already fawn all over me for being the Boy Who Lived."

"If you won the tournament they'd have a real reason," she pointed out, accurately focusing on the fact that the fawning wouldn't be quite so awful if it was for something respectable as opposed to a stupid nickname and a scar on his forehead. He wasn't even allowed to tell people that he'd genuinely killed Voldemort this summer, because the Ministry didn't want it getting out that Voldemort had been resurrected for even half an hour. "You could actually show off all those spells you know instead of people just hearing that you'd passed your NEWTs."

He couldn't deny there was a certain appeal to that. He didn't get nearly enough chances to do magic, in his opinion, and he did have a bit of a thing for showing it off. After all, what was the point in knowing every spell ever made if he didn't get chance to use them and show people?

On the afternoon of the thirtieth, all the students lined up on the front steps before dinner, rubbing their hands together to keep warm and peering around them for the coming parties, whose method of arrival was unknown.

The Beauxbatons students arrived first in a great big horse-drawn carriage flying down out of the sky. In the row in front of Harry, Cid Villiers exclaimed, "Fucking _cool_ ," and got scolded by Gareth for his language. The Beauxbatons headmistress was the biggest woman any of them had seen and put Harry in mind of the old Hogwarts groundskeeper, Hagrid. He wondered briefly if the man was still in Azkaban; what was the sentence for possession of illegal dragon eggs?

Just a few minutes after the Beauxbatons students arrived, those from Durmstrang turned up—in a ship that sprung out of the lake, which Harry found pretty impressive. The Durmstrang headmaster greeted Dumbledore as if they were old friends, but most of the Hogwarts students' attention was on the Durmstrang students. Or rather, one student in particular: Viktor Krum. In front of Harry, Cid Villiers gave a weak sort of moan that made Harry genuinely concerned the boy was about to faint. He made it back into the castle, however, but when the Durmstrang students decided to sit at the Slytherin table he almost fell out of his seat with joy.

"Can you fucking believe this? Viktor Krum! Sitting right there! Merlin, this is fucking cool!"

"Chill out," Tyler Swift told him. "He's just a—"

Cid slapped a hand over Tyler's mouth, glaring at him. "Don't. Finish. That. Viktor Krum is the definition of awesome, okay? He's the best seeker _ever_ and if you say anything against him, I will put worms in your bed."

Tyler was smiling when Cid pulled his hand away. "Whatever you say."

Harry almost wished he couldn't hear the exchange, if only because through sheer chance he ended up sitting directly opposite Krum, who obviously also heard and made no efforts to hide his mixed embarrassment and irritation. Next to Harry, Theo seemed to be restraining himself from turning into the same flailing fanboy as Cid, whilst on his other side Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass were doing a poor job of hiding their own interest.

The Beauxbatons students were seated at the Ravenclaw table, which Harry had his back to as he usually did, but he looked around when they all leapt to the feet when their headmistress entered the hall. A few Hogwarts students laughed, but they showed no sign of embarrassment and didn't sit down again until Madame Maxime had. In the ensuing silence prompted by Dumbledore calling for attention, Harry heard one of them mutter in French, «Englishmen! They have no respect for their superiors, but laugh at us because we do!»

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat and conversation sprung up around the hall as food appeared on the table and everyone helped themselves. The Durmstrang students turned out to be friendly enough, happy to make conversation with the Slytherins, with the exception of Krum who only spoke when directly addressed and answered in monosyllables. At the Ravenclaw table, Harry heard the Beauxbatons students chattering primarily to one another in French, switching to English only when someone from Hogwarts spoke to them.

After the meal, Dumbledore stood and introduced Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman, who were closely involved in the organisation of the Tournament and made up two of the five judges alongside the head teachers of each school, then unveiled the Goblet of Fire, the unexpected 'impartial judge' that would decide who each of the three champions would be. It would be placed in the Entrance Hall for students to add their name to over the next twenty-four hours, and the three champions would be revealed at the Hallowe'en feast the following night.

Theo and several of his housemates asked Harry if he was planning to apply, and Harry answered them all with 'maybe' and 'I don't know', but late that night when everyone else was asleep, he admitted to himself that yes, he did want to apply. He also didn't want everyone watching him do it, so he slipped out of bed, found some parchment to scribble his name on, and left Slytherin under the security of his Invisibility Cloak.

He wasn't that surprised to reach the Entrance Hall and discover that other people had the same idea. He watched a couple of Gryffindors he didn't know toss their names into the flaming goblet and hurry away then stepped forward himself, glancing around just in case there was anyone else coming up or watching, and quickly reached out and dropped his bit of parchment into the flames. A stupid grin spread over his face afterwards and he hurried back to Slytherin, heart racing a little. He'd done it now. Tomorrow he'd find out if he was considered worthy.

* * *

The weather was good the next day, even in Godric's Hollow, and Harry found it a little strange to kneel at his parents' grave in bright if chilly morning sunlight instead of the dim twilight of the evening. The village pub was also notably busier, it being a Saturday afternoon, and the landlord expressed surprise at seeing Harry and Gareth in so early.

Back at Hogwarts Harry spent the afternoon hanging out by the lake with Anita, who confessed that she'd entered her name for the Tournament as well.

"I reckon I've got a good shot at it," she said confidently. "Me and you are probably the only fourth years who do."

Harry couldn't argue with that. He threw a stone out across the lake and Anita pointed her wand and made it explode at the apex of its arc. The wand was just for show; she was exploding them through her demon powers and just didn't want to be seen by anyone who passed or happened to look out a window or by the Durmstrang students on their ship.

"By the way, is it true you're gay?"

Harry dropped his pebbles and spun to look at her. "Where'd you hear that? No, I'm not."

"I dunno, I just heard it somewhere. Someone said you're going out with Nott."

"I'm not," he told her firmly. "Theo isn't gay either. It was Daphne Greengrass, wasn't it? I'm going to hex her for this."

She shot him an amused look. "Why do you think it's her?"

"She wanted to go on a date with me last year," he explained. "When I told her I didn't fancy her she decided it must mean I was gay."

"How did she figure that out?"

He shrugged, scooping up his pebbles again and throwing one for Anita to explode. "Apparently _everyone_ fancies Daphne and if you don't then you're gay. She's a bit self-involved, to be honest."

"No kidding."

They fell into companionable silence for a while, blowing up stones or making them bounce across the surface of the water. When the giant squid stuck out a tentacle and started knocking them away, they exchanged a look then transfigured the stones to golf balls for him to slap away instead.

"Harry, can I ask something?" Anita asked after five minutes of this.

He glanced at her, but her gaze was fixed on the giant squid. "Sure."

"I've been getting the impression from people that wizards don't care about... about things like... sexuality. Not like Muggles do."

"They don't," Harry agreed. "There's none of that prejudice rubbish. They're too bothered by blood status to worry about sexuality. I mean, it's not perfect," he admitted, recalling the attitudes of some of the pureblood Slytherins. "Some people think it's something that should only happen behind closed doors. Like they think gay people should have straight marriages so they can have babies and stuff, and just have a gay lover on the side."

She looked at him then, startled. "But that's cheating!"

"I don't think it's cheating if everyone agrees to it. A lot of pureblood marriages are arranged or only done to mix certain bloodlines or for politics or whatever. They don't marry for love."

"But that's ridiculous! No one should marry someone they don't love."

"I thought... I mean, don't... um..."

"What?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

She scrutinized him. "You think Indian people arrange marriages, don't you?"

"Don't they?"

"Well... yes, sometimes," she admitted. "But not all of us, and if someone doesn't like the person then they don't have to do it. And it's not all 'oh you _have_ to marry this person', it's more like 'this is a good person and if you like each other then we really want you to get married'."

"Are you in one?" he couldn't resist asking. Fortunately she didn't seem offended.

"I was, but the boy's family broke it off when my brother was arrested and nothing else was arranged while his trial was happening, and then I was in therapy for ages and Mum said I needed time to recover before we started looking for another match, but then my Hogwarts letter came and now I think she's a bit reluctant to look for possible matches in case they're a Muggle that doesn't like magic."

It was only then that Harry realised he'd never found out what happened with her brother's trial, nor the details of her father's death. It was just something that never came up between them, a silent agreement that, despite the bond garnered from their shared childhood, they never actually discussed their lives in Little Whinging. Now Harry decided to break it.

"What happened with your brother's trial? Was he found guilty?"

She nodded and threw a golf ball viciously towards the centre of the lake, a burst of magic giving it an extra boost of speed. The squid, rather than bat it away, whipped its tentacle down and disappeared from view, apparently offended by such high-speed projectiles. The ball hit the water hard, disappearing below the surface briefly before bobbing up again.

"Fourteen years imprisonment," she said with a grim smile. "He was killed by a shanking a couple of years ago. Even other prisoners don't like people who hurt kids."

She sounded positively delighted by this fact.

"What's a shanking?"

"That's what they call it when you're stabbed in prison."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say. Sorry didn't seem right when she seemed so pleased at her brother's demise. He wondered just how badly her brother had hurt her, but he wasn't quite willing to ask in case she didn't want to talk about that. She'd always been extremely unwilling to discuss the issue when they were kids.

"Anyway," she said, taking a deep breath and summoning back the golf ball she'd thrown, as well as the rest they'd been tossing at the giant squid; she did this with normal magic, practising the charm that the fourth years were learning that week, "I wanted to ask about the gay thing because, well... I think I might be a lesbian."

"Oh!" Harry said. "Um... that's nice. You're not sure?"

"I don't know. I mean, I think I have a crush on a girl but it might be nothing."

"I... can't really help you. I've never had a crush on anyone. My sister seems to know a lot about that stuff, you could talk to her about it. Or..." He hesitated. He wasn't sure if Lisa's bisexuality was common knowledge and she might not appreciate him telling people. He settled for finishing, "Or another lesbian."

"Oh, what, just put up a notice in the common room, shall I?" she said sarcastically. "'Questioning girl seeking lesbian to discuss sexuality with'?"

Fighting the urge to scowl, he shrugged and affected a nonchalant tone. "Never know, it might work."

She snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"Who do you think you've got a crush on then?"

She appeared suddenly embarrassed. "No one. Anyway, I'm not allowed to be a lesbian."

Harry frowned at her. "What do you mean not allowed? I'm pretty sure it's not something you need permission for. Either you are or you aren't."

"Sikhs don't like it."

"I thought they were meant to be accepting of everyone. You said they don't even care if you come to the temples when you're not a Sikh."

"They don't, but family life is really important and lesbians can't have babies. Not that I'll be having children before I die anyway, but the point is they don't like it much. Mum and my aunt and her family would never like it."

"You can't help it if you are though."

"I know," she said, but looked a bit miserable now. "But I'd have to keep it secret from them."

"You already keep the demon deal secret from them."

"True." She sighed. "Let's go in, it's almost dinner."

Everyone was eager for the meal to end that evening. As they ate, Harry listened to the excited chatter of his housemates and wondered how many of the lower years who admitted to entering their names really thought they'd be picked over the far more experienced sixth and seventh years. Or him. He had to admit that he agreed with everything Tori had said a few days ago and he was quietly hoping he _was_ picked. He wasn't bothered by the fame or money awarded to the winner, but he wanted a chance to show off his skills in magic.

Every eye in the Hall fixed on the Goblet of Fire when the feast finally finished and Dumbledore dimmed the candles normally lighting the hall, leaving the bright blue flame of the Goblet as the only light. Some people seemed to be vibrating in their seats with anticipation; others held their breath.

The flame flared red, a slip of parchment shot out, and Dumbledore caught it from midair.

"The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!"

Roaring cheers and applause filled the hall as Krum stood up and headed up to the front of the hall, turned left and passed the staff table, and disappeared through to the side room. The applause died down and attention focused on the Goblet as it turned red again.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

A very pretty girl rose from the Ravenclaw table and headed up to the staff table amidst cheers. A few of the other Beauxbatons students burst into tears, which struck Harry as a bit excessive, but he looked back to the Goblet as it turned red for a third time. All the Hogwarts students stared now with unconcealed anticipation and Harry crossed his fingers in his lap, staring at the slip of paper that came out as if he could tell whether it was his even from this distance. Then:

"The champion for Hogwarts is Harry Potter-Valentine!"

It took a moment for the words to penetrate Harry's head, by which time the Slytherins were roaring their approval around him, banging fists and goblets on the table, stamping the floor with their feet. Next to Harry, Theo grabbed his arm and shook him vigorously, grinning uncharacteristically, and Harry practically had to drag himself away from them. He couldn't keep the grin from his face as he walked up to the staff table and turned down. Dumbledore and Gareth both winked when he caught their eyes and he grinned harder, hurrying past and moving through to the side room.

Krum and Fleur looked over when he entered and his confidence wavered for a moment. Krum stood with one arm on the mantlepiece, the picturesque brooding hero, and Fleur's hair almost seemed to sparkle in the firelight, and they both looked far more impressive than him, who was suddenly conscious that his hair was reaching that terrible greasy stage and there were splashes of mud around the bottoms of his trousers. It didn't help that Fleur ran her eyes over him and said in a clearly unimpressed tone, " _You're_ ze Hogwarts champion?"

Harry straightened his back. "Yes, I am."

She gave a derisive little laugh. "Zis will not be much of a challenge."

" _Nous verrons,_ " Harry said. She looked surprised but didn't get chance to respond. The door opened and Dumbledore, Maxime, Karkaroff, Crouch, and Bagman entered. Bagman beamed happily at the three champions, while Karkaroff and Maxime gave Harry looks that said they, too, didn't think he would be much of a challenge for their own champions. Dumbledore gave Harry a warm smile, and only Crouch seemed untouched by the emotion of the day.

"Wonderful!" Bagman greeted. "Our three champions! Shall we crack on, then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"

Mr Crouch nodded stiffly. Harry couldn't help feeling that he must have been absent on the day good cheer was handed out. "Yes, the first task... The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Fleur and Krum, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... very important... It will take place at dusk on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the Tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the Tournament, the champions are exempt from end-of-year tests. Is that all, Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded, smiling at the three students. "We all look forward to seeing how you do and I wish you all the best of luck. I'm sure your fellow students are eager to celebrate, so off you go. Madam Maxime, Professor Karkaroff—would you care to join me for a nightcap?"

As the adults agreed to go off for a drink, the three champions left. Fleur gave Harry another supercilious smile before she swept out the castle doors and Krum looked him over calculatingly then they parted ways and Harry headed down to Slytherin, where the whole house greeted him with cheers. Someone had got Butterbeers and snack foods and they stayed up late into the night partying.

Despite the Slytherins' support, the whole school was not in his favour as Hogwarts Champion—or rather, they were not in favour of having a _Slytherin_ champion. Most of them were fine, especially the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but a few Gryffindors made unpleasant comments suggesting he'd cheated his way into getting picked over people they considered more worthy. Seamus Finnigan was among the loudest of those expressing this opinion.

Two weeks after the selection of the champions, Colin Creevey turned up five minutes into Harry's afternoon Potions lesson to fetch him, saying the champions were wanted for photographs. Harry left with him reluctantly. Happy as he was to be champion, he didn't see why that meant he had to have his picture splashed across the _Daily Prophet_. Maybe it wouldn't be, he mused. Gabriel owned the paper, after all; he might order them not to print it. He wasn't particularly impressed with Harry's participation as it was; the last letter from home had been written by Lorna, who congratulated him but noted that Gabriel was concerned about the danger Harry had put himself in.

At the room Colin led him to, Krum and Fleur were already there with Ludo Bagman, a witch in magenta robes, and a paunchy man with a camera. Bagman informed Harry they were having a wand weighing in which the champions wands would be examined to ensure they were working properly, and then introduced the witch in magenta as Rita Skeeter, whose name sounded familiar to Harry though he couldn't place where. She looked Harry over like a hunter watched a prize tiger.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is—if Harry has no objection?"

"I do," Harry said quickly. "I don't want an interview, thanks."

"Oh, come now, Harry!" Bagman cajoled. "Good press—"

"I don't care about good press. I don't think Miss Skeeter wants to try and publish anything about me."

Skeeter laughed. "Harry, _of course_ I do. The Boy Who Lived—everyone wants—"

"The son of Gabriel Valentine," Harry interrupted. "You know, the man who owns the _Daily Prophet_." Skeeter faltered. Harry smiled. "I would hate to have to write home and tell my father that one of the _Prophet's_ reporters is harassing me. He can get so overprotective sometimes; I dread to think what he might do."

He left Skeeter silently fuming and moved to stand by a window, hoping his nerves of the wand examination didn't show. What did it mean exactly that they would be checking to make sure the wands worked alright? Bagman mentioned a specialist; would they want to know what his wand was made of? He remembered well the Ministry of Magic's security guard's reaction to finding out what his wand was made of; he didn't really want all these people to know about it.

He watched Fleur as he waited. She was definitely one of the prettiest people he'd ever seen. He enjoyed watching good looking people, but there was something else about her that drew Harry in, something different, and he found himself wondering if this was what it felt like to have a crush. He found himself oddly unhappy about it. He was happy not fancying people and after his parents' reassurances that it didn't mean there was something wrong with him, he didn't like the idea of suddenly being changed by the presence of one particularly attractive girl.

His attention was distracted by the arrival of Dumbledore and the other judges—with Ollivander the wandmaker in tow. It was almost enough to make Harry want to flee or quit the tournament, but he knew that wasn't allowed and running away would only delay things. He just crossed his fingers and hoped for the best. He uncrossed them again and slumped against the wall when Ollivander called Fleur forward and said quietly, but still loud enough for all the room to hear, "Hm, nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

Harry felt a sudden wash of relief. He _didn't_ have a crush on her, it was just the diluted veela powers that made him feel differently about her than every other attractive person. Now he knew about it, he could ignore it easier.

Ollivander produced a bunch of flowers and declared the wand in good working form then called forward Krum. His wand was inspected, produced a flock of birds, and pronounced fine, and then it was Harry's turn. He detached his wand from its strap and, extremely reluctantly, handed it over. Ollivander took it, turned it over in his hands once, and stiffened. He had his back to the judges, sitting at table opposite the champions, and his eyes flicked from the wand to meet Harry's.

"This is... an unusual wand, Mr Potter-Valentine," he remarked even more quietly than he'd spoken before. Harry saw Skeeter leaning forwards to hear him better. "Very unusual. Might I ask where you got it?"

Harry hesitated, mind whirring. Maybe... it wasn't like the name was unique at all or particularly demonic...

"Crowley," he said cautiously. No flicker of understanding or shock came over Ollivander's face.

"Not someone I'm familiar with," the old man noted. "And it works well for you?"

Harry nodded.

"Hmm." He lowered his gaze to the wand again, inspecting it closely and for quite a while. Harry noticed Dumbledore watching with a slightly narrowed gaze. Eventually Ollivander flicked the wand and conjured a single large, black butterfly that made him frown but nevertheless declare the wand in good working order. Harry gladly took it back and reattached it to the strap.

They stood for photographs afterwards, which took an irritatingly long time as they tried to figure out how to fit Madame Maxime into the shot, whilst Rita kept trying to get Harry front and centre and the photographer did the same with Fleur. When they were finally dismissed, it was time for dinner and Harry was glad to get away.

The article the next day focused a little more on Harry than Krum and Fleur, but on the whole there was nothing to really object to. A week later, the first Hogsmeade trip of the year finally came. It was only a few days before the first task and Harry found himself growing apprehensive. He didn't like not knowing what he was meant to face and had to reassure himself that whatever it was, there would be a spell to defeat it.

His popularity since being declared champion had soared somewhat, so he found himself accompanied to Hogsmeade not only by Theo but also all the Slytherin girls in their year group and Blaise. It was weird, but not bothersome until he wanted to go buy cigarettes.

After spending the last couple of months doing homework in exchange for them, he had to admit to himself that he was, maybe, developing a habit. It made him feel oddly guilty, knowing that if his parents found out he'd be in serious trouble, but not enough to make him stop and there was a certain thrill to doing something his parents disapproved of. Besides, he'd made good relationships with the other smokers who tended to congregate behind the greenhouses at break- and lunchtime, and it was a good place to hear all the latest gossip.

He and Theo eventually managed to get away from the group in the Three Broomsticks. As they left, Harry heard laughter and a muttered comment about snogging that made him want to go back and hex them. The rumour that he and Theo were going out seemed to have gone through the whole school and accepted by most as truth even when he and Theo denied it. Harry worried for a bit that Theo might want to stop hanging out together so much to make the rumour desist, but he just rolled his eyes whenever he heard it.

Theo led the way to a little shop down past the Hog's Head pub where the owner sold tobacco and cigarettes to Hogwarts students. It was illegal to sell to under-seventeens and he charged them one and a half times the price, knowing they could hardly complain about it without admitting to what they were doing, but he was the only person who would sell it to them, Theo told Harry, so they didn't have much choice. Not that price was really an issue for Harry, which was good because while he'd smoke what he could get, he favoured the pre-rolled magical cigarettes that gave off blue smoke, which were more expensive than Theo's preference for normal tobacco and rolling papers.

On the twenty-fourth, Harry struggled to concentrate in all his lessons. He completely messed up his Arithmancy calculations, and in Ancient Runes he somehow managed to accidentally write out a runic spell that turned his parchment into ash. He spent the afternoon's History class paying so little attention that he never even noticed when Binns mentioned his father as an instigator of the 1799 Giants' War.

He hardly touched his dinner that night and his stomach was a bottle of nerves when Gareth fetched him and led him out the castle, down towards the Quidditch pitch and to the student changing rooms.

"You ready?" Gareth asked as they walked. Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "You'll do fine, Harry. There are wizards ready to step in at a moment's notice if something does go wrong, but I have faith in you. You've taken three NEWTs and killed Lord Voldemort. I think you can manage what's in there."

Harry gave him a weak smile and headed through the door of the changing rooms. Krum and Fleur were already there, looking as nervous as he was, a sharp contrast to Ludo Bagman, who greeted Harry cheerfully and gathered the three around to explain the task.

"Your primary target is to retrieve the silver box, but there are certain—ah—obstacles, shall we say, that you must neutralise in order to reach it. Points are awarded based on how fast you retrieve your box and how well you handle the obstacles. Now, in order to keep the spectators from offering help, a covering with a one-way See Through Spell has been placed over the pitch, as well as sound-proofing charms. These—" he reached into his pocket and withdrew three rose quartz crystals on short necklace chains "—will enable us to hear you, however, and if you find yourself overwhelmed then speak the world 'bubblegum' and you may forfeit the task."

Harry took his and clasped it around his throat. The quartz sat just below his collarbone.

"Mr Krum, you're first," Bagman said. "Miss Delacour second. Just go out into the pitch when you hear a whistle, all right? Now... Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Harry looked at him, surprised, but nodded and followed him out the tent, walking a short way and stopping when Bagman turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"What?" said Harry. "I—no, nothing."

"Got a plan?" said Bagman, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice still further, "you're the youngest here, Harry... bit of an underdog, going up against far more experienced competitors... anything I can do to help..."

"Mr Bagman, you don't know much about me, do you?" Harry said, somewhat amused. Bagman looked startled momentarily, then grinned, eyes flicking to the lightning bolt scar.

"No, I suppose not. Boy Who Lived, I suppose you are—"

"That's not what I meant," Harry interrupted before Bagman started praising him for that rubbish. "I just meant I've passed three NEWTs before my thirteenth birthday, so I don't think I need to worry about facing up against a world famous Quidditch player and a part-Veela unless the challenges include a broomstick race and a beauty contest. I don't need any help."

Bagman's grin faltered. "Right. Yes. Good. Well—"

A whistle blew and Bagman jumped.

"Good Lord, I've got to run!"

He hurried off and Harry returned to the changing room, passing Krum as he headed out. The sound-proofing charm clearly didn't extend this far because he heard the crowd roar their approval when Krum entered the pitch and he could hear Bagman commentating. He didn't say anything that really gave away what he was facing, but Harry started to think that whatever the 'obstacles' were, they were alive.

Fleur was next and Harry spent the time alone restlessly pacing the changing room, fists clenching and unclenching at this sides, half-wishing he had a cigarette if only because it would give him something to do while he waited.

And then, finally, it was his turn. He gripped his wand tightly in his right hand as he headed out to the pitch. Silence fell over him as he did, the sudden loss of noise unnerving. The ground of the pitch had been covered with rocks and trees, the turf torn up to make it uneven, and his first thought was that they'd better put it all back to normal afterwards. There was a dim light, but he couldn't really tell where it came from.

The biggest thing he noticed, however, was the bone deep cold that swept over him as soon as he entered, a cold that was painfully familiar and brought with it the echo of a werewolf's roar and a woman's scream. Almost against his will, his eyes moved upwards and fixed on the three Dementors circling the air above him.

Harry forced himself to ignore the approaching sound of a werewolf and raised his wand, thinking of home and family, and said firmly, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

The silver crow burst from the end of his wand and he immediately felt better as it flew around his head and then settled on shoulder. There was no point sending it directly after the Dementors; there was nowhere to drive them away to, so he just needed to protect himself from the effect of them as they hovered nearby.

He looked around. He couldn't see a silver box anywhere, but then he had the whole pitch to look through. Figuring he'd get the simplest possibility out the way, he tried summoning it but wasn't surprised when nothing came whizzing towards him. They would have protected the box from something like that or it'd be too easy.

Knowing there would be more than just the Dementors, he started moving around in search of the silver box, ears perked for noises within the area. He could hear a slight snuffling, the padded noise of something walking across the ground, and a soft snarling. Not a werewolf, he didn't think, but definitely something not entirely human.

A light appeared on his left and he spun towards it, wand held out. A small light flitted around behind a tree. Wondering if the box could move, he cautiously made his way towards it. It kept darting about in the dark, never quite letting him get close enough to see it properly, and only when he was shin deep in bog did he realise he'd been tricked by a hinkypunk. He pulled himself out and looked around, scowling. How was he meant to find the silver box in this darkness? It was probably at the centre, but after following the hinkypunk he wasn't sure where the centre _was_.

He started in a random direction, but after just a few yards found himself facing a wall. He turned, thinking. The pitch was standard size—180 by 500 feet. He could use a spell to find out the distance between two points, but that was no good when there were trees and rocks between him and the other side of the pitch.

He turned, looking at the wall behind him. Normally the sides of the base of the pitch were just the wood posts of the stands with the various coloured hangings over them, but something had been done to make it solid wood now, which actually worked in his favour. He prodded the wall with his wand and muttered a spell, and hand holds appeared. He hauled himself up until he reached the top of the covered area, above the line of the trees as far as he could see. It put him closer to the Dementors gliding about, but the crow flew around him and held them back.

Carefully holding on with one hand, he pressed the tip of his wand to the corner where the temporary roof met the sides then dragged it sharply across the roof as if he was striking a match, so he ended with the wand held directly opposite him towards the other end of the pitch. " _Espentnos._ "

A white line appeared along the roof. When he touched his wand to it, numbers showed up just above the line: 179.3/180.

So he was against one of the longer sides. Now he needed to figure out how far he was from each end, but it wouldn't work from here because of the oval shape of the pitch. He needed to get to the midway point between this side and the other first, then he would have to levitate himself up and check the distance between him and the far ends, and from that he could work out how far and in which direction the centre of the pitch was.

He headed back to the ground and, checking the roof occasionally to be sure he stayed level with the line still painted across the ceiling, he started towards the other side of the pitch. He counted his footsteps and paced each one about a foot apart so he'd have a rough idea of when he was near the centre point.

So focused on keeping count and staying on track, he didn't notice the sound of something creeping up on him until it leapt from behind a tree and sent him crashing to the ground. His concentration lost, his Patronus faded away and he felt the Dementors' despair wash over him as a mouth latched onto his throat, teeth sinking into his skin. He jerked his wand up and over his shoulder, jabbing it into the creature's face and silently using a Blasting Curse to knock it off him.

" _FUCK!_ "

He scrambled to his feet, hurriedly conjuring his Patronus again, and driving back the Dementor that had taken the chance to swoop lower, then cautiously approached the person getting to their feet. Between swearing in English and biting him, he'd figured out what it was.

"What's a vampire doing in here?" he asked.

"Attacking you," a feminine voice snarled, and they leapt at him.

" _Protego!_ "

The vampire hit the shield and was thrown off, but they managed to turn into a somersault and land on their feet. They started to move again and he called out, "I'm Gabriel Valentine's son!"

The vampire froze. "Are you?"

"Yes. Who are you? Who's your nest master?" He approached and the glow of his Patronus lit up a woman's face, watching him warily now.

"I don't have a nest," she told him. "Why do you think I agreed to do this stupid thing for the tuppence they offered me? Are you really Gabriel Valentine's son? You'll mention that I'm getting paid for this, right?" she said nervously when he nodded. "Make sure he knows I didn't just attack you for the hell of it? It's just part of this Tournament you're in, and they made it clear I wasn't allowed to do more than nibble a bit anyway."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he knows," he reassured her. "Do you know where the silver box is?"

"Yes."

"How much are they paying you?"

"Not enough to deal with Valentine's son."

"So if I offered to, say, put a good word in with Gabriel for the chance to join his nest, would you show me where the box is and help me reach it without anything else stopping me?"

She considered him. "How much influence have you got on nest matters?"

"Enough," he said boldly, hoping it was true. "He is looking for new members at the moment."

"New members or new soldiers?" the vampire asked sharply. "I haven't been living under a rock; I know about the war."

"You'd probably have to fight," he admitted, "but you'd also have my parents' protection the rest of the time, and Dad doesn't just sends people off to battle for him. He and Mum fight as well."

"It's tempting... you really think you can get me in?"

He nodded.

"Alright, I'll show you to the box. I'm Ravella, by the way."

"Harry. Nice to meet you."

"The box is this way," she said, heading in what to Harry seemed like a random direction, away from the line he painted on the ceiling which was no good to him now anyway. He lost track of how far he moved when she attacked him. "Sorry about the bite."

"It's fine, don't worry about it. Do you know what else is in here? I've met a hinkypunk already, and obviously the Dementors."

"Some minor creatures," Ravella said dismissively. "Dogbogs, imps and pixies, jarveys, pogrebins. There's one following us now, so watch yourself; it won't bother me. A couple of acromantulas, occamies, and runespoors and other basic snakes. Oh, and a Quintaped."

"What's that? I don't think we've covered those in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Big, hairy thing. Five legs. Likes to eat people. It was guarding the box last I saw of it."

"Crap. Do you know how to deal with them?"

"I usually find making things bleed to death is effective."

"Me too," he muttered, but he wasn't sure if he might get in trouble for killing something in here.

He almost walked into Ravella when she stopped and he edged sideways to see why. Ahead of them was a pedestal holding the silver box about the size of a Muggle Rubik's Cube, lit from below so that it shone eerily.

The Quintaped sat at the base, chewing on the remains of what Harry thought was probably a hinkypunk. Whether it saw or smelled them, it looked up and spat out the food, getting to its feet and snarling. Obviously it thought Harry would make a better meal than the hinkypunk.

They may not have covered them in Care of Magical Creatures, but Harry had learnt enough by now to know that any magical creature of this size was immune to stunning spells from a single wizard, so he didn't waste time trying. Often magical creatures were immune to a lot of other spells as well so rather than try to defeat it he used _Incarcerous_ to conjures ropes and tie it to a tree. It roared its disapproval, but Harry couldn't help laughing at how ridiculous it looked with its five legs sticking out from between the ropes, waving helplessly as it tried to get free.

Grinning, he approached the pedestal and took the silver box.

Light burst across the pitch, making him shut his eyes with a wince while Ravella snarled. Shading his eyes, he opened them to slits and looked around. The temporary roof had vanished and Harry saw several figures on broomsticks immediately move in to round up the three Dementors. The sound-proofing spells vanished with the roof and the roaring cheers of the spectators filled his ears, conjured orbs now filling the pitch with light.

"Harry!"

He looked around, squinting through the light. A pathway had cleared between the false landscape and he could see an opening at the edge of the pitch, Gareth standing there gesturing to him.

"Don't forget what you promised me," Ravella said.

"I won't," Harry assured her. "I'll write home tomorrow morning, you have my word. See you!"

He let his Patronus vanish and made his way over to Gareth, accepting his congratulations and then getting hustled into a tent that'd been erected for Madam Pomfrey to work in. She cleaned and bandaged his vampire bite and then, while she went to check on Krum who had been bit by the Quintaped, Tori turned up.

"Harry, it's great that you were the fastest, but I don't think you can recruit vampires for the nest."

"How did—" he began, then remembered the quartz that Bagman gave him. He started to take it off, but was surprised when Bagman's voice came out of it.

"Mr Potter-Valentine?"

He exchanged a startled look with Tori, who shrugged. "Um, yes?" he said, chin down to aim his voice towards it.

"The judges wish to know the purpose of the distance marker before they decide on your score. Please explain."

"Oh, um... I figured the box was in the middle of the pitch so I was trying to work out where the middle of the pitch _was_. I knew the distance, so I was working from that."

Bagman's voice sounded amused and impressed. "Thank you. Your score will be awarded momentarily."

"That's pretty clever," Tori said as he removed the quartz, hoping the communication charm would turn inactive when he wasn't wearing it. "Come on, lets see what you got."

Picking up his silver box, he accompanied her out of the tent to see his score being given. He was given points out of ten from each judge, getting two nines, an eight, a ten, and (from Karkaroff) a six.

"Scumbag," Tori said when she saw it. "He gave Krum a ten. You're still in first place though!"

"Who's second?"

"Fleur. You were the fastest, but she reached her box without getting hurt, although she didn't conjure a Patronus and it was obvious that the Dementors bothered her."

"How did she find the box?"

"Dunno," Tori admitted. "She just seemed to home in on it. Like a pigeon."

Harry laughed. "Maybe it's something to do with being part-veela."

Gareth came up to them, congratulating Harry again and saying he needed to go back to the changing room to meet with Bagman. He sent Tori up to the castle without him and went to the changing room himself, feeling pleased. Fleur and Krum joined him shortly after, Krum limping, and then Bagman turned up.

"Well done all of you! Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth—but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those silver boxes you're all holding, you will notice that they twist and turn... yes, see," he said when Harry idly twisted his, surprised when parts of it changed from silver to various shades of grey. "You need to solve the puzzle which will give you the clue as to what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, hand in the quartz crystals and off you go, then!"

* * *

Harry kept his word to Ravella and wrote to Gabriel the next morning, also detailing how he'd done in the first task. He still had classes that day and he hardly slept the night before, full of adrenaline from the task, so he was tired and didn't examine his silver box until the weekend.

It worked exactly like a Rubik's Cube, only instead of six different colours the silver squares shifted through shades of grey depending on how close it was to its correct position, and went pure black when it was in the right place. It was tricky to do, sometimes losing black squares he'd had before, but almost addictive at the same time. After getting told off for playing with it in Muggles Studies, he had to start leaving it in Slytherin so he wouldn't keep taking it from his bag to try and figure out.

The beginning of December brought a new challenge for him, however. Gareth held the Slytherins back at the end of a Potions class one Friday to announce that a Yule Ball was held on Christmas, as part of the tournament, and specified to Harry that, as champion, he would take the first dance with his partner. He wasn't worried about the dancing, as his parents had made sure he and Tori knew how, but that partner part was proving problematic.

Initially he expected finding a partner to be hard because no one would want to have a date whose face had been mauled by a werewolf, but after being asked by two different girls and a boy in the first day after the announcement, none of whom he even knew the name of, he realised that this was apparently not a problem for people. He could only assume that, after four years at Hogwarts, people had got used to his scars.

But aside from not wanting to go with someone he didn't know, he didn't want whoever he did go with to get the wrong idea. He found plenty of the students attractive and nice to look at, but the last thing he wanted was one of them thinking that because he asked them to the Yule Ball it meant he actually fancied them.

«What about Theo?» Tori asked in Italian when he expressed this problem to her in the last Herbology class of the term. «You could go as friends.»

Harry shook his head, trying to surreptitiously rub his calves without drawing attention. The cold made his scars ache and it was bad enough that he was probably going to go ask Madam Pomfrey for a pain reliever when class let out. He wouldn't have to go back to taking one regularly again, but between the cold and the regular walking to get around the castle, it was getting too bad to go completely without.

«Theo's refusing to go with anyone,» he explained, also in Italian. He preferred other people not to hear his dating troubles. «He said he wants to make a point of not having a partner. He's like me, he doesn't fancy people, but at least he can refuse to go with anyone. I don't have a choice.»

«Anita already has a date, and you don't really have any other close friends, do you?» she mused.

«I have friends. I hang out with other people,» he muttered defensively. He knew about Anita; he'd gone to her with the friends only idea, but she was going with Lisa Turpin. She was still trying to figure out the lesbian thing and Harry supposed going to the ball with a girl was part of that.

«Like who? The other smokers?» He glanced at her and she smiled. «Yeah, I know about that. Don't worry, I won't tell Mum and Dad. It's not good for you though. Remember all those gross pictures Jennifer showed us in health classes of lungs turned black and stuff?»

Harry generally tried not to. «I'm fine. Well, what about you? Have you got a date?» It would probably be a bit pathetic to attend a ball with his sister, but if push came to shove...

But Tori nodded. «Tyler Swift.»

«What? _Him?_ Why are you going with him?»

«He's very attractive.»

«Well, yeah, but he's...»

«What?»

«I don't know. He's a bit of a player, isn't he? I heard he's kissed half the school.»

«So what? Just because you're not interested in snogging people doesn't mean others aren't. Maybe all the interest in that sort of stuff that you were meant to get ended up with him.»

Harry frowned. «I... don't think it works like that.»

She rolled her eyes. «I'm teasing you, Harry. Anyway, who I go to the ball with is none of your concern. It's you you've got to worry about. Michelle Parker's one of the smokers, isn't she? The Ravenclaw fifth year? Do you like her?»

He shrugged, thinking of the girl he'd seen hanging around the greenhouses sometimes. «She's alright, I guess.»

«Logan Sparrow?»

Logan was nice, Harry thought, and attractive and was more likely to give up a cigarette to Harry for minimal repayment than anyone else. Harry also suspected he might be Snape's unknown child; Logan made no secret of the fact that he'd been orphaned in the war against Voldemort and adopted and he had the dark hair and pale skin. It was a tenuous connection and Harry had no way of finding out for sure, but he struck Harry as a possibility. There was just the problem that Harry was pretty sure he was straight, so no good as a Yule Ball partner.

«Don't see why that matters,» Tori said when he told her this, «seeing as you're... is there a word for people who don't fancy people?»

«If there is, I don't know it.»

«Padma doesn't have a date. You could ask her.»

Harry considered that. Padma was Tori's friend and after the time they spent together over the summer, she would probably accept the 'friends only' requirement and not take things the wrong way.

«Doesn't she have anyone she wants to go with?» he asked.

«I think she's hoping Viktor Krum will ask her actually, but I have it on good authority that he's going with Hermione Granger.»

Harry gaped. «Seriously?»

She nodded, grinning the smile of someone who knows they possess valuable information. «He asked her out in the library on Tuesday. I thought he might; he's been hanging out there a lot ever since he arrived and I noticed him watching her over his books sometimes. She never did.»

«Anita said she wouldn't notice a freighter if she's got an interesting book to look at instead,» Harry remarked. «I don't mind going with Padma, but I don't want her to go with me if there's someone else she'd prefer.»

«I'll ask her for you.»

«Alri- wait, shouldn't I ask her myself? I don't want her thinking I'm some loser who can't even ask someone to the ball.»

She shot him an amused look. «I'm pretty sure she doesn't think you're a loser, but whatever works for you.»

«I'll ask her,» he decided.

It was lunch after Herbology and he managed to catch Padma on the way up to the castle, getting Tori to tug her away from the rest of the class and then slip away while Harry nervously flattened his hair and asked with lots of 'ums' and 'ers' if she would go to the ball with him. She instantly beamed at him.

"Just as friends," he repeated, in case she'd missed that bit amidst the rest of his haphazard sentence.

Her smile didn't fade, but it took on a bit of a mocking lilt. "Still haven't kissed anyone yet, then?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Alright, I'll go with you as just friends. You're dancing with me, though. I don't want you showing me up just because we're not a real date."

He relaxed. "Of course I'll dance with you. We have to to open the ball, anyway."

"Are you any good?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty decent."

"Alright then," she said, and her smile softened. "See you at Christmas, Harry."

He watched her walk off, feeling relieved to have got it over and done with. He felt even better later that evening after a pain reliever for his legs and seeing Ron Weasley ask out Fleur Delacour in the Entrance Hall at dinner time. Although 'ask' was not entirely accurate. He sort of screamed it at her, and then promptly ran off, embarrassed. It cheered Harry up to know that other people had even more trouble getting dates than he did.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Harry had only seen one other winter holiday at Hogwarts, but he was sure the teachers had gone to twice as much effort this year, decorating the castle and Great Hall with far more extravagance then they had his first year, but tastefully so. Padma let out a long _'ooooh'_ of appreciation when they walked into the Great Hall together on Christmas night. She was dressed prettily in turquoise robes and seemed fairly impressed with how Harry looked in his black and silver dress robes. He felt pretty decent in himself, to be honest. He'd carefully timed his last shower so that by this evening his hair was in that perfect stage between 'dragged through a hedge backwards' and 'dipped in a deep fat fryer', and made sure to put on some deodorant.

As champion, he sat at the table at the head of the hall with the other champions, their dates, and the judges. Professor Karkaroff, Harry noticed, watched Krum and Hermione with an expression like he'd rather have seen his prize student with a squid for his date. Fleur Delacour was there with Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, and she spent much of the meal expounding on all the ways in which winter at Beauxbatons was so much better, whilst Roger agreed emphatically and seemed not to notice the occasionally dismissive look she shot him, apparently unimpressed by his fawning. Harry guessed that as a part-Veela she was probably used to and a bit sick of people falling over their feet for her. He wondered why she hadn't found someone else to go with her, but maybe Roger was the best of the bunch.

After eating, Dumbledore moved aside the other tables, conjured a stage onto which the Weird Sisters came, and Harry held out his hand for Padma to take. As a child, he usually considered the dancing lessons his parents gave him a waste of time, but now he was grateful for them. Whirling around the dance floor with a dutifully impressed Padma made it easier to ignore all the students and teachers watching them. He might have joined this tournament to show off a bit, but it was to show off his magic, not his dancing skills.

Soon enough other couples joined the champions. Harry saw Tori with Tyler—though it took him a two looks to realise it _was_ Tyler; he'd tied his shoulder length hair up in a half-ponytail and, combined with his androgynous features, Harry at first mistook him for a girl. Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime, the top of his hat barely reaching her chin; Sirius Black was engaged in a rather energetic dance with Professor McGonagall, who Harry suspected was trying not to laugh; and Gareth was spinning a flushed Professor Sinistra in an expert move.

He danced another song with Padma, but after that they went to get drinks. Harry found Theo hanging around the table and appreciated the warning that one of the seventh years had tipped half a bottle of vodka into the punch.

"Only half?" Harry asked, taking a bottle of butterbeer instead while Padma eagerly scooped out a cup of punch.

"Pretty sure he'd already drunk the other half."

"Oh. Are you going to dance?"

Theo shrugged. "Maybe, if someone decent asks, I guess."

"Why'd you even come?" Harry asked curiously. "No date and you might not dance... you might as well have joined the younger years for dinner in the common room."

"Then I would have looked like a loser," Theo said as a Beauxbatons boy came over and asked Padma to dance.

"You don't mind do you, Harry?"

"Wha- oh, no, go ahead."

She smiled warmly and went off. Harry looked around the rest of the hall, sipping his drink. He saw Ron Weasley scowling heavily, sat alone and staring daggers at Blaise Zabini—who was dancing with Ginny. He wasn't overly surprised when Padma didn't come back after the dance finished. She'd been content enough to come with him, but it was obvious even from a distance that she was more interested in a boy who seemed to actually fancy her.

A new song started and Harry noticed Theo tapping his foot and shuffling slightly on the spot. No one else seemed interested in them, so he nudged his friend and asked, "Want to dance?"

Theo glanced at him, surprised. "It won't help those rumours going around about us, you know."

"I don't care," Harry said honestly. "Do you?"

Theo thought about it, then shook his head, finished his drink and accompanied Harry onto the dance floor.

Later in the evening they left the Great Hall to walk the grounds, which had been decorated with fairy lights that were actual fairies. They wandered between the rose bushes, occasionally stumbling across a trysting couple, until they found a hedge to hide behind where they could smoke a cigarette. They interrupted a fifth and third year Hufflepuff couple in the process, but the third year looked immensely grateful for the interruption so they didn't feel too bad for it.

Five minutes later they had to hurriedly vanish the smoke from their cigarettes as they heard familiar, arguing voices on the other side of the hedge.

"... not controlling his life," Sirius Black's voice said. "I'm just telling _you_ to stay away from him."

"That's kind of what controlling his life is, Sirius," Gareth replied. "It's none of your business who he hangs around with."

"Hangs around with? Just be honest, you're shagging him."

"I'd certainly like to..."

"You piece of—"

"Careful. There are students about, _Professor Black_."

There was a slight thump. "Stay away from him, Martin. He deserves better."

"Like you? The man who put him in a coma for thirteen years?"

A rather doggish growl was the only response, then footsteps storming away. Harry and Theo waited for the noise of Gareth to leave too, but instead quickly stuck their cigarettes behind their backs as Gareth leaned around the hedge.

"Comfy behind there, boys?"

"Uh... yes, sir," Harry said.

"Not doing anything you shouldn't be, are you?"

"Nope."

"I must be imagining the stink of cigarette smoke then."

"Probably."

"Ten points from Slytherin for that terrible attempt at lying, Potter-Valentine. Finish them and get inside. I catch you again and it's a detention, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

He disappeared and their drew their hands back around.

"I'm so glad we've got him for a Head of House instead of McGonagall," Theo remarked. "She'd have tanned our hides if she caught us."

"She still might," Harry muttered, taking one long last drag on his cigarette before vanishing the butt. His fingers were chilled and he wished he'd brought his cloak and the new butterfly cloak pin that had been one of his Saturnalia presents, one Lorna had made herself. "It's cold out, anyway. Let's go back inside."

Theo agreed a touch reluctantly and finished up his own cigarette. They slipped out from behind the hedge and started up the path, but they'd gone only a few feet when a couple fell out of a rosebush along the path. It didn't stop them snogging until Harry, recognising both parties, yelped, "Tori!"

The couple sprang apart and Tori sat up. Her hair was mused and her lipstick smeared (Harry hadn't even realised she was wearing lipstick before now) and she grinned self-consciously at him while Tyler, who'd thrown himself back into the rosebush, struggled to extract himself again.

"Hey, Harry. How's your night?"

"My...?" He glanced at Tyler, who was now looking at Harry with an expression suggesting he felt Harry might start cursing him for daring to snog his sister. Harry looked back to Tori. "Tori, you know how when I got angry at Zacharias Smith and Michael Corner last year for pulling that prank on you, and you said I wasn't allowed to pull the whole 'overprotective brother who interferes with boyfriends' thing unless you ask for it?"

"Yes," she said slowly, standing up, her expression saying clearly that if he started doing it now then _she_ was going to start throwing curses.

"I'm not going to do it, but that doesn't mean I like seeing you snogging people out in the open. Can't you at least find a broom cupboard or something?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Tyler, let's go find a broom cupboard."

"Works for me," he said, following her back to the castle but throwing Harry a wary look over his shoulder.

"Come with me," Theo suggested as they started moving again. "I've got something that'll cheer you up."

"I don't need cheering up," Harry said automatically, then: "What is it?"

"Show you when we get there."

"Get where?"

Theo refused to answer, just led Harry back inside, up the marble staircase, and all the way through the castle to...

"The Astronomy Tower? What's so cheerful about the Astronomy Tower?"

"Nothing," Theo said, sitting down against the parapet and taking out his tobacco tin. "But this is."

Harry sat beside him, dipping his hand in his pocket for his own tobacco tin, a present from Theo and decorated with a beautifully painted snake. "I've got my own... wait. That's not tobacco, is it? It's the wrong colour. What is it?"

Theo grinned. He rolled the green stuff into a paper, thinner than he rolled his cigarettes, and then, to Harry's surprise, took out a box of matches and used one of them to light it, not bothering to raise it to his mouth before he did so.

"Why aren't you lighting it with your wand?"

"Matches are better for this," Theo told him. "Constant flame. Wands just spark light things."

"... okay. So what is it? Wait... is that _pot_?"

Theo grinned again. "Figured you'd get there eventually."

"But that's... isn't it... I mean, that's a drug, are you sure it's... safe?"

"It's just weed, Harry. It's not like I'm offering you opium or something. It's completely harmless, really."

Harry doubted that, but he had to admit he knew absolutely nothing about cannabis. Jennifer's health classes hadn't covered drugs and the Hogwarts teachers didn't teach them anything about it.

He was surprised when Theo held the lit joint out to him first. "Uh... don't you want a go?"

"You first. Wanna make sure you get it right before it hits me." He waved it and Harry took it. "Remember, it's not like smoking a fag. You want to get it straight into your lungs, don't bother holding it in your mouth first."

Hesitantly, Harry lifted it to his mouth and inhaled as directed. He almost choked on the smoke, but managed to restrict himself to just a few small coughs, and then... then he just felt _good_.

* * *

Theo was talking. Harry had no idea what he was talking about, but he was talking, way more than Theo normally talked. And Harry was sure it was very interesting, whatever it was, but right now he couldn't help thinking about the stars and how stupid it was that Muggles weren't allowed to know about magic, because Muggles built spaceships and if they knew about magic then they could build _magic spaceships_ and then Harry could go to space and touch a star. Then again maybe he didn't need a magic spaceship. The stars felt a lot closer than normal so maybe if he just put his arm up and _stretched_...

A face appeared above his, upside down, blocking the stars from view.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to touch the stars."

Theo's head disappeared and he flopped down opposite Harry, head level with his. "You can't reach the stars. You need a broom. A super broom. Like a Firebolt, but better."

"I have a Firebolt."

"Yeah, but _better_."

Harry thought about this. "A Firebolt II?"

"Yes! A Firebolt II!"

"I'll ask my parents to buy me one. Wait... I didn't know there was a Firebolt II."

"I don't think there is yet."

"Then why'd you say I need one?"

"I didn't say that, you said that."

"Did I?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. I need a magic spaceship."

"What's a spaceship?"

"It's... it's a... a thing. Big. It flies and you can touch the stars."

"Oh. Cool. It'd hurt though. Touching the stars. They're really hot. Hotter than fresh cooked cookies."

"I want cookies."

Theo disappeared and then returned, a cookie in his mouth and dangling another temptingly over Harry's face. Harry opened his mouth and Theo dropped it in before retaking his position opposite him, their heads side by side and so close Harry could feel the warmth of the other boy's face against his own. They ate in silence and then Harry said, "Stars wouldn't hurt you if you touched them. Stars are magical sparkles. They'll tingle. It'd feel really really good. Like a... a... a really really good thing."

"Like fresh cookies."

"Yeah. I want more cookies."

Theo vanished again, there was some scrabbling, then he was back. "There's only one left. We'll have to get more."

Harry giggled. "From the house elf. It was a funny elf. Did you see its ears? They were all _floppy_. Gimme the cookie."

"Nuh uh." Theo bit into the cookie, but it was too large to fit entirely so Harry reached up and snatched the second half from him and stuffed it in his own mouth.

"Fief," Theo mumbled around his half. Harry grinned, crumbs around his mouth.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"Why're you upside down?"

"I'm not upside down, you're upside down."

"Oh."

Theo lay back down beside him, sighing. "Do you ever think about it?"

"No, being right way up is better. There's not much to think about."

"What?"

"What?"

"Do you ever think about _it_?"

"It what?"

"Sex."

"No."

Theo turned his head, surprised. "Really?"

Harry turned his own head. Their noses were barely an inch apart and he struggled to focus his gaze on Theo's eyes. "Yeah, see, 'cause I think you need to get kissing before you figure out sex."

"Ohh. Yeah, that makes sense. Do you ever think about kissing then?"

"Sometimes." He looked back up at the sky, staring up at the stars again. "Like is it really as nice as everyone says and what does it feel like and will something bad happen if I don't get kissed before I'm fifteen and also is it magic and do you start fancying people if you kiss someone."

"Nothing bad happened to me."

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you want to find out?"

"Find out what?"

"Whether it's as nice as everyone says."

"You mean kissing?"

" _Yes_."

Harry thought about it. "Maybe, I guess. But who am I gonna kiss?"

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

He did so. Theo tilted his head up so their noses brushed, making Harry wrinkle his, and then Theo's mouth pressed against his.

It was... different.

Theo pulled back. "So?"

"You're upside down."

Theo blinked.

"Right way up is better," Harry said. Theo shifted, putting himself along side Harry, propped up on one elbow and looking down at him. He leant closer, body pressing against Harry's, and Harry wanted to say that he was blocking the stars, but then Theo's mouth was on his again and he decided the stars could wait.

* * *

"Oh, good, I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed, Albus."

Dumbledore looked around as Gareth came up beside him. The ball was over and the last stragglers hoping to make the night last were being shooed on by the rest of the staff. Gareth didn't doubt that after-parties would be going on in the dorms, with generous helpings of alcohol.

"Everything alright?" Dumbledore greeted. "Word on the grapevine is you and Sirius argued earlier."

"Slight disagreement, nothing to worry about," Gareth told him dismissively. "I just wanted to ask if I can take Thursday night off."

"Thursday... I don't see why not. Off to the Valentines again?"

"Going on a date, actually."

Dumbledore smiled. "I didn't know you were dating. That is to say, with someone other than Aurora, who I understand you have an... arrangement... with. Or are the two of you making things official?"

Gareth glanced at the headmaster, trying to figure out if he objected to the 'arrangement' with Sinistra. There was no official rule against staff dating one another, but then he and Sinistra never dated. They just used one another as a form of stress relief at the end of a particular wearisome day's teaching, with the clear understanding that relations with other people were just as acceptable. Of course, he broke things off with her now he was getting serious with Lupin.

However Dumbledore's expression was nothing but polite interest.

"Remus Lupin."

"He wouldn't by any chance be the reason for your slight disagreement with Sirius?"

Gareth shrugged, but his mouth twitched.

"And does Gabriel Valentine know you're dating a werewolf?"

"If he does, he hasn't said anything about it."

"I presume you would prefer to keep it that way."

"Vampires and werewolves, Albus. You know what they're like."

"I presume also that Remus does not know of your Bond."

Gareth gave a dry laugh. "We'd have to be _a lot_ more serious for me to tell him—"

"Professor Martin!"

The two men turned. Aurora Sinistra was coming down the marble staircase, two red-eyed fourth years trailing along with her. As they grew closer, both men noticed the distinct scent surrounding the two boys.

"Professor Martin, I just found these two smoking weed in the Astronomy Tower."

Gareth frowned at the two boys. Theo stared hard at the floor. Harry smiled dozily.

"I seem to recall taking points off you two a couple of hours ago for smoking."

"Yessir," Harry said, still smiling.

"So you thought it was a good idea to just take it inside instead?"

"Yessir, 'cause you said, sir, you said 'finish them up and get inside', so we did, sir."

Sinistra frowned disapprovingly. Dumbledore, Gareth knew without even looking, had that twinkle in his eye that he got whenever he was amused. Gareth didn't look at either of them.

"I also said if I caught you again it'd be detentions for you both."

"Yessir, but you didn't catch us, sir, Professor Sinistra did."

Dumbledore coughed, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he did. Sinistra's frown deepened. Gareth wondered if there was any point threatening to write to Harry's parents while his head was still in the stars. He was, Gareth decided, oddly irritating while high. Gareth didn't think he'd ever heard the word 'sir' come out of his mouth so often in a single conversation.

"Nevertheless. Detention apiece, and twenty points from Slytherin."

Theo cleared his throat and, without looking up and in a more normal tone than Harry, asked, "Are you going to write to our parents, sir?"

Dumbledore answered before Gareth could. "I don't think that will be necessary for a first offence, Mr Nott. Just be sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you'd best escort them back to Slytherin, Gareth," Dumbledore suggested. "I'm sure we could all do with a good night's rest after such an exciting evening. Good night, Mr Potter-Valentine, Mr Nott, Gareth, Aurora."

He headed off, Sinistra going with him as they both headed to their rooms up in the castle. Gareth ushered the two fourth years towards the stairwell down to the dungeons.

"What were you doing smoking in the Astronomy Tower, anyway? Don't you think a thousand students have done that, and worse, up there before? You could have at least found somewhere new to do it, honestly..."

* * *

"Is it true?"

" _SHIT!_ "

Harry jerked, throwing his box away as his hands spasmed, twisting around to look at the owner of the voice and grabbing his wand. His heart continued to pound in his chest even after he saw his sister stood in front of the closed door of the abandoned classroom he was hiding in.

"Jesus Christ, Tori, some warning next time?"

"Thought you heard the door open," she said unapologetically, picking up the box and bringing it over, sitting down beside him. "I thought this was silver."

"It was." It was almost pure black now. He'd completed the puzzle just before Christmas Day, but at the moment one of the pieces was twisted out of place, giving a row of dark grey squares. He turned it, the squares went black, and light shone from between them to illuminate the walls of the room. Shadow figures moved, two long-haired elfish figures snatching up a human, carrying it over their heads and into a forest to bind it to a tree. A 60-minute timer appeared at the same time a second human figure came hurrying after them, counting down (not in real time) as they stumbled through the forest searching. When they failed to reach the kidnapped person before the sixty minutes ran down, the victim was absorbed into the tree.

"Huh," Tori said. "So you've got to save someone from a carnivorous tree."

"In less than an hour," Harry agreed. "Presumably in the Forbidden Forest."

"That'll be fun. Do you know who?"

He shook his head. "Right now I'm more worried with _how_. I have to find them _and_ not get attacked by whatever creatures are living in the forest. How'd you find me, anyway? Did you search the whole castle?"

"Fred and George Weasley. They can find absolutely anyone in the castle, for a sickle."

"How?"

"Don't know, they won't tell, probably because then other people would start doing it instead of paying them to do it for them. Anyway, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you got a detention for smoking pot in the Astronomy Tower on Christmas night?"

"Yes."

"And is it true you were snogging Theo?"

Harry didn't look at her, staring instead at the shadow figures playing out again on the walls around him. "It wasn't snogging—"

"But you kissed!"

"Yeah."

"I thought you didn't fancy him."

"I didn't. I don't. I don't know, it doesn't matter anyway."

"Why not?"

Harry sighed. "I think he regrets it. He's been avoiding me ever since."

Tori's eyebrows rose. "You share a dorm. How does he avoid you?"

"With great effort. He won't talk to me at all."

Not that Harry was making much effort to talk to Theo, either. The kiss left him confused and unsure about his relationship with the other boy. He was pretty sure that he still didn't fancy Theo, because on the whole his feelings towards Theo hadn't changed. On the other hand, he'd enjoyed kissing him quite a lot and he wasn't sure if that meant he did fancy Theo and just never realised it, or if it was just a result of the pot they smoked. Was it possible to just like kissing people without fancying them?

"I can jinx him for you if you want."

He smiled. "I don't need you playing the overprotective sibling anymore than you need me doing it to you. But thanks."

It did make their detention awkward. They served it on the evening of the first day of term, when Gareth had Harry pickle rats' brains and Theo disembowel horned toads. Although placed on opposite sides of the same table, they went the entire night not so much as glancing at one another. In their classes, Theo sat in a different chair or, in their mixed classes where there were no spare seats, swapped with someone else. Harry avoided the smokers' niche behind the greenhouses, figuring Theo wouldn't because he'd been going there longer than Harry had, but he didn't need the smokers' gossip to learn that all the people who believed he and Theo had been going out now believed they'd had a messy break up. Most people seemed to think Theo was the one to blame for this break up and Harry kept getting pitying looks from the Slytherin girls in his year.

He was glad for the Hogsmeade weekend in the middle of January. He went with Anita and Hermione, assured that they, at least, didn't believe the rumours. But half an hour into the trip he realised not all was well between the two Gryffindors. Hermione seemed extremely glad for Harry's presence, talking a great deal more than usual, but mostly directly to him and not to Anita. Harry wondered if this had anything to do with Anita being a lesbian, which she'd officially confirmed to Harry in Potions earlier that week, although she was not going out with Lisa Turpin. Hermione was Muggleborn, after all; maybe she believed Muggle homophobia.

They were in the Three Broomsticks when they noticed Ludo Bagman talking with some goblins. Bagman also noticed them and, somewhat to Harry's surprise, came bustling over and asked for a private word with him. Hermione and Anita went to find a table—Hermione took seats at a table where Neville Longbottom sat alone—and Harry followed Bagman down to the far end of the bar, away from the other drinkers.

"Well, I just thought I'd congratulate you again on your splendid performance in the first task, Harry," said Bagman. "Really superb."

"Thanks," said Harry, but he knew this couldn't be all that Bagman wanted to say, because he could have congratulated Harry in front of Anita and Hermione. Bagman didn't seem in any particular rush to spill the beans, though. Harry saw him glance into the mirror over the bar at the goblins, who were all watching him and Harry in silence through their dark, slanting eyes.

"Absolute nightmare," said Bagman to Harry in an undertone, noticing Harry watching the goblins, too. "Their English isn't too good... it's like being back with all the Bulgarians at the Quidditch World Cup... but at least _they_ used sign language another human could recognise. This lot keep gabbling in Gobbledegook... and I only know one word of Gobbledegook. _Bladvak_. It means 'pickaxe'. I don't like to use it in case they think I'm threatening them." He gave a short, booming laugh.

"What do they want?" Harry said, noticing how the goblins were still watching Bagman very closely.

"Er—well..." said Bagman, looking suddenly nervous. "Ministry business, nothing you need to worry yourself about."

"Alright," Harry said, but wondered why goblins would be taking Ministry business to someone who worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports instead of the Goblin Liaison Office.

"Anyway," Bagman went on hurriedly, lowering his voice, "I really wanted to ask you, how are you getting on with your silver box?"

"Fine," Harry said truthfully, wondering why Bagman was asking about that. Bagman didn't seem to believe him.

"Listen, Harry," he said (still in a very low voice), "I feel very bad about all this... no offence, of course, I know the Goblet of Fire picked you, but you are quite young—and I know you got those NEWTs and you're clearly skilled—but I'm just saying, if I can help at all... a prod in the right direction... I've taken a liking to you... the way you talked your way through that arena!... Well, just say the word."

Harry looked up into Bagman's round, rosy face, and wide, baby-blue eyes.

"We're supposed to work out the clues alone, aren't we?" he said, careful to keep his voice casual, and not sound as though he was accusing the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports of breaking the rules.

"Well... well, yes," said Bagman impatiently, "but—come on, Harry—we all want a Hogwarts victory, don't we?"

"That's true," Harry agreed in a tone that managed to convey that he was agreeing with the sentiment but not the man who said it. Nevertheless, this did strike him as a convenient time to ask some questions he'd been wondering since he figured out the box. "I was wondering..."

Bagman looked eager. "Yes?"

"This isn't like the first task where we're only allowed our wand, is it? This time we can bring anything with us?"

"Oh yes, anything you think you need. Was there something particular...?"

"No, no, I just wanted to make sure. And we can prepare for it however we think necessary?"

Perhaps remembering that Harry had managed to actually convince part of the first task to work _for_ him, Bagman looked a little wary now, but still nodded. "Yes, you can."

Harry smiled at him. "Great. I just wanted to check the rules, that's all. Wouldn't want to do something that might be construed as cheating."

He excused himself and joined Anita, Hermione, and Neville at their table. They finished up their drinks then all four of them headed out. It was a cold, damp day, most of the ground covered with the slushy remains of the last snowfall, and none of them felt like hanging around the village so they headed back towards the castle.

Just as they passed the path leading towards the Shrieking Shack, however, Tori came from down it and approached. There was something weird about her, Harry thought, but he couldn't quite place what. She asked him to come with her to the Shack and, concerned, he agreed, waving the others off.

"You alright?" he asked his sister as they headed down the path, rounding a bend that took them out of sight of the main road. "You seem weird."

"I'm fine."

"Alright," he said unsurely. "So what did you want?"

"She didn't want anything," a voice said, and he whipped around as several figures stepped out from behind the trees lining the path. "We did. _Expelliarmus!_ "

The wand that Harry'd drawn whipped out of his hand, but the strap kept it from flying beyond reach and he grabbed it again, returning the attacker's spell and following up with a Stunning Spell that knocked them off their feet. He dodged a curse from one of the others, turned to attack them, and then Tori grabbed him, wrapping both arms around him in a bear hug and clamping one hand over his right wrist, forcing his hand down.

"Tori, what are you doing?!"

"Whatever I tell her to," one of the attackers said, a woman with a smug grin on her face as she pushed her hood back and approached. The others moved in closer as well. "Now we're taking you both to Aurelia."

"No, I don't think you are."

The attackers whirled around, but there was just a flicker of black, several flashes of red, and then half a dozen figures were slumped on the slushy path. Tori let go of Harry and staggered back. Gareth appeared, apparently from nowhere, and caught her by the arms, steadying her.

"Alright, Tori?"

She nodded, straightening up, looking at Harry wretchedly. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't want to. They put me under the Imperius Curse."

His hand clenched around his wand, but there was nothing he could do now so he let it go and hugged her. "It's alright, it wasn't your fault. I know what that feels like."

"Either of you hurt?" Gareth asked and they both shook their heads, breaking apart. "Alright. I'll walk you back up to the castle. Let me just do something about this lot."

"You were amazing there, professor," Tori said as he conjured rope and bound the unconscious attackers together. "I didn't even see you."

"Thank you, Tori. I'm very good at not being seen when I don't want to be. I think we'll just leave these behind—"

"Martin? I hope you've got a damn good explanation for what you're doing with those people."

Sirius Black strode down the path towards them, wand in hand down by his side and his eyes blazing with distrust. With the Shrieking Shack in sight, Harry was reminded of the first full moon after the werewolf attack when Sirius and Gareth took him to see if he would transform. He couldn't remember seeing any hostility between the two men that night, but perhaps he'd been too young or it was too long ago (or he'd just been too distracted to ever notice), and he wondered now if the dislike that seemed to emanate from Sirius was due to the argument he'd overheard at the Yule Ball.

Gareth must have noticed it too, but he ignored it. "Perfect. These people just attacked Harry and Tori. I was securing them so I could walk Harry and Tori up to the school, where I planned to contact an Auror to come arrest them."

Sirius glanced at the bound group and then at Harry and Tori. "Is this true?"

They nodded emphatically and Tori said, "One of them put me under the Imperius Curse, Professor Black. They wanted to kidnap us, but Professor Martin stopped them."

Sirius' eyes flashed and his mouth tightened angrily as he glanced again at the bound group. He lifted his wand, aimed it south, and something silvery burst from the end and vanished into the distance.

"The Aurors should be here in about ten minutes. They'll want to talk to you all about what happened, but I think it's best if you two do return to the castle." He looked over Gareth, frowning. "I can do that while you wait with this lot."

Gareth hesitated, glancing over Harry and Tori, but then nodded. Sirius, Harry, and Tori headed off, but when they were halfway back to the castle Sirius stopped them.

"I want to make sure neither of you are still under a curse," he said. "Will you let me check you?"

They glanced at one another and nodded, standing still as he checked them briefly for compulsions and cast a general _finite incantatem_. He relaxed when they both came up clear.

"I just wanted to be sure no one had done something without you noticing. Come on."

* * *

Michael Morgan Marlowe was a Muggleborn, and the amount of alliteration in that phrase was, in part, some of the reason he was nicknamed Morbid Mike—he tended to inflict violent ends on people who brought it up. The other reason was that he'd always had a strange fascination with death, for no real reason except, perhaps, a deep psychological result of seeing his mother beat his father to death at the age of two, but he never cared enough to see someone who could analyse that sort of thing.

Not unless you counted the psychologist he carved up that one time.

Of course, that fascination with death tended to focus itself on people other than himself, often in violent and bloody ways inflicted by Mike himself. He would much prefer to live forever, which is why he agreed to work with the vampire Aurelia. He'd have settled for any vampire, in truth, but Aurelia was the one recruiting and offering immortality in exchange for services rendered, so she was the one he decided to work for.

He didn't really see why he'd been sent on a kidnapping mission given where his skills lay, but he did what he was told because that was what would get him what he wanted. He'd even left behind most of his weapons.

'Most' being the key word. He liked to make weapons of the simplest things.

He hung back when Tiana moved in, watching from a distance and wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped into the village proper and found someone to... play with. The Shrieking Shack would probably be a really good playground. People already thought it was haunted; they wouldn't think much of it if screams erupted from the abandoned building.

But Tiana's plan moved quicker than expected and he restrained himself. Maybe if he was lucky, Aurelia would let him kill the kids. Mike didn't discriminate when it came to picking people to inflict death upon. As long as it bled and died like a human, he didn't care about anything else. Animals worked almost as well, but for some reason there just wasn't the same level of satisfaction.

Hanging back as he was, he was out of sight when Gareth Martin came. Mike watched through the trees as the man disarmed and stunned Mike's co-workers, for lack of a better word, with all the ease of knocking out babies. That was magic for you, of course. It was very good at being effective and flashy, but Mike, in all his Muggleborn experience, found that sometimes the hard and dull method was just as, if not more, effective. Especially against wizards. They didn't expect it.

Gareth Martin certainly didn't expect it when Mike threw a cricket ball, with practised accuracy, straight at his temple with perfect speed. That is, slow enough to hit him with enough force to render unconscious but not kill, but fast enough that he wouldn't have chance to react to the flicker of movement before it hit him. The ball rebounded off and landed in a puddle, while Gareth went crashing to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.

In Mike's opinion, it was far too clean and very boring, but Aurelia had been clear that she wanted her kidnap victims brought back alive. It wasn't exactly the victim she was expecting, but Mike knew she wanted Gareth almost as much as she wanted the Valentine children, so he figured coming back with one out of three was better than coming back with nothing.

Especially as Mike considered himself an expert on inflicting death until Aurelia taught him a few things. That wasn't the kind of person you wanted to come back to with your hands empty.

* * *

Dumbledore did not trust Gabriel Valentine, and it had nothing to do with his being a vampire. He had no problem with vampires, and he even had no problem with vampires adopting children, even when one of those children was Harry Potter, who Dumbledore would much prefer raised in an environment he considered ideal (such as a nice family like the Weasleys). Harry was happy, however, and undeniably well raised, so Dumbledore didn't object except silently to himself.

But Dumbledore could not trust a man who would forcibly enslave another person. It didn't matter to Dumbledore that Gareth was happier, more relaxed, and no longer hurting himself since his Bond had been transferred—although that was not to say that Dumbledore was not glad that Gareth was so obviously better off. The fact remained that Gabriel Valentine had subjugated another man to own will and Dumbledore had to question the moral compass of a person who did that.

There was no keeping from Gabriel the news of what happened, however. At least, not all of it. Harry and Tori didn't want their parents to know—primarily so that their Hogsmeade privileges weren't revoked or, worse, they were withdrawn from school entirely as a result of the Valentines' overprotectiveness—and as they weren't under arrest the Aurors didn't require that they have a guardian present while they were interviewed about what happened.

But two days passed with no sign of where Gareth had gone and no standard location spells working, and Harry and Tori's story suggested that Gareth, if he was still alive, was now in the grasp of Aurelia the vampire. It left Dumbledore with two options: obtain some of Harry's blood to use in an advanced locator spell, which either required Dumbledore to obtain the blood through subterfuge or break Gareth's trust and reveal his history to Harry (who knew enough to know that such a spell required a close blood relative); or he informed Gabriel that his Slave was missing and let him use the magic of the Bond to find him. It was a connection hopefully powerful enough to overcome whatever protections were keeping Gareth hidden.

So on Monday night Dumbledore left the castle and Apparated to South Arlett. He didn't miss the cameras on the grounds of Lynott Manor when he arrived, nor the strong enchantments that sent a tingle through his skin after announcing himself and the gates opened to admit him. Given the underground war going on between the vampires right now—though less underground since the open attack at the Quidditch World Cup—it was no surprise there was so much protection around the primary home of Gabriel Valentine's nest, but it concerned Dumbledore somewhat that two of his students spent their summer trapped behind these protections with so many vampires.

The butler showed Dumbledore to a drawing room where Gabriel and Lorna already waited for him. They offered him a drink, which he declined, then asked with clear concern after their children.

"Harry and Tori are fine, Lord and Lady Valentine, nor are they in trouble. It's Gareth I've come to speak to you about. I am aware of the Bond between you, Lord Valentine; Gareth told me of it himself. On Saturday, he went missing. I have reason to believe Aurelia is responsible for his disappearance."

"That explains what you've been feeling for the last few days," Lorna said softly to Gabriel, who acknowledged the comment only with a brief glance before saying,

"I can find Gareth through our Bond." His expression had darkened as soon as Dumbledore mentioned the missing man; at Aurelia's name, it was a snarl short of being animal in its fury. "You may, if you wish, wait here, or you may return to Hogwarts and we will alert you as soon as he is discovered."

"I will do neither," Dumbledore said in a tone that tended to make students cower and even McGonagall side-eye him. "Gareth is my employee and, more importantly, my friend. If you are seeking him out, Lord Valentine, I am coming with you."

Dumbledore could almost see the cogs turning in Gabriel's head as he considered the options. He could, of course, put Dumbledore under the vampire seduction, and Dumbledore didn't believe he could fight that off. It wasn't like the Imperius Curse, which worked upon the mind and required only a strong will to throw off; it touched the soul, and that was a very different type of magic.

But Gabriel had to know that putting him, Albus Dumbledore, under the seduction would have lasting consequences, as would attempting to physically subdue him, and he evidently decided it was easier to allow Dumbledore to accompany him because he asked, "How do you feel about riding Thestrals, Professor?"

He was fine with the Thestrals. He was less fine ten minutes later when, after the butler took him down to the stables, the Valentines joined him accompanied by four other vampires and two witches, and all of them wielding Muggles weapons from swords to bows to guns, the witches with their wands tucked in arm holsters. Dumbledore noticed among them was Ravella, the vampire hired for the first Triwizard task. Gabriel himself had a short sword at his waist, a dagger on his left hip, and a shotgun slung across his back, while Lorna carried a shotgun and a sabre. All of them wore dark Muggle clothes and padded vests.

Lorna held one out to Dumbledore, who didn't take it and didn't hide his unhappiness at the amount of weaponry surrounding him. "Is this all necessary?"

"Our enemies are using Muggle weapons," Lorna told him. "We have to as well."

"But surely I don't need—"

"Have you ever been shot, professor?"

"No," he admitted.

"It's quite painful. Due to our physical resilience, the guns we're using are high powered and cause a great deal of damage. You don't want to know what they can do to a human body. Do you want to put all your trust in your wand to protect you from whatever projectiles we might encounter?"

"Refuse the vest if you want," Gabriel added, "but on your own head be it. I expect the people who fight with me to protect themselves as much as the rest of the squad."

With a sigh, Dumbledore pulled it on, allowing Lorna to help him strap it up, and restrained himself to a frown when she suggested he charm his ruby red robes to a darker colour. They mounted the Thestrals, which walked them away from the stables as Gabriel gave orders that left Dumbledore deciding those rumours about his time in the Roman Army were probably true, and then they took to the air.

Gabriel directed them south west, over fields and villages, moving slightly off course to avoid flying directly over Birmingham or Wolverhampton, and then straight onwards until they reached a small town just south of the Brecon Beacons. They slowed, descending lower until they landed by a small wooded area where they left the Thestrals and continue on foot a short way to a street on the outskirts of the town. It had only four houses on it, two on each side, and they were attacked as soon as they were in sight of the windows of just one. An arrow flew towards them, just barely missing Gabriel's head as he sidestepped, and it clattered to the ground behind them.

"Burn them down," he ordered calmly. "I will find Gareth. You," he added sharply to Dumbledore, "stay near me."

It was a long time since someone had given Dumbledore orders or dared to speak to him in such a way. It irked him, but at the same time was almost refreshing.

He couldn't say the same about the fight. Voldemort had recruited vampires and Dumbledore had gone up against his fair share of them, but he'd never seen vampires fighting vampires like this and certainly not with Muggle weapons. Dumbledore associated battles with the constant flash of lights and shouts of curses as wizards threw spell after spell. The snarl of the vampires was something different, the whir of arrows and bullets was faintly terrifying, and death came in a spray of blood and missing body parts instead of a flash of light—when it came at all. He saw Gabriel bury his short sword up to the hilt in someone's chest and then whirl to shoot someone else in the face with the shotgun while the first person pulled themselves off the sword and tried to carve Gabriel's face off with a pair of daggers.

Dumbledore himself stunned, disarmed, and neutralised whoever he could, unwilling as always to kill even when someone tried to decapitate him with a katana. He focused his efforts on the opposition's humans, surprised that even they used Muggle weapons alongside their wands, but the vampires so outnumbered them that he had to defend himself from them as well. Vampires had some natural resistance to magic, but they were nothing like trolls or giants and he was, in all modesty, a remarkably powerful wizard, so his spells worked where a lesser wizard's might have failed. The hardest part was landing a hit; he forgot how fast they could move.

Gabriel headed directly to one of the houses—at least, as directly as possible amidst the fighting—and Dumbledore followed. Inside, he had the advantage over the vampires, the enclosed space restricting their usual speed and making their swords harder to swing, the furniture and walls providing cover from the guns.

Eventually they found Gareth in an attic room. The rest of the house was silent by then, their opponents either dead, unconscious, or at least incapacitated. But there was one last vampire in the attic with Gareth, an olive-skinned woman with cropped brown hair. She held Gareth's hair tightly in one fist, jerking his head back and holding a knife to his throat, forcing Gabriel and Dumbledore to stop just inside the room.

Gareth looked awful. He'd been stripped and he was on his knees, hands chained behind him and pulled up to lock him to the wall, wrenching his shoulders out of their sockets. The chains had to have magic-suppression runes etched into them, because his hair was brown instead of red and in the electric light Dumbledore could see the lightning bolt scar on his forehead that he'd seen only once before, when Gareth removed his glamour to prove the story of his history. His body and face were littered with bruises and lacerations, bites still seeped blood or were scabbed over on his throat and arms, and he didn't seem able to focus his gaze on them.

"Elize," Gabriel growled, staring at the woman. "Been a long time."

" _Déposez vos armes, Gabe._ "

Gabriel's hand clenched around his sword. "I hate that nickname."

The woman smiled, all teeth. " _Oui, je me souviens. Mettez-les vers le bas ou l'humain meurt._ You too, _magicien_ ; wand on the floor."

Gabriel dropped his sword and removed the dagger from his belt and gun from his back. Dumbledore carefully placed his wand down. The vampires spoke more in French, too fast for Dumbledore to keep up with. Elize's gaze was fixed on Gabriel, but Dumbledore didn't think she would miss any motion he made.

He cleared his throat. Both vampires looked at him as if disgusted that he'd dared to interrupt them. He smiled.

"Madame," he said politely, "a question, if I may?"

Elize glanced at Gabriel, who said and did nothing, then back at Dumbledore. "Your words are not needed here, _magicien_. I do not understand why Gabriel has taken to surrounding himself with humans, but know your place."

"Oh, I know my place very well, Madame. I also know when I'm being terribly rude, but sometimes decorum must be thrown aside. I merely wished to know how old you are and whether you were a witch prior to being a vampire."

" _Taire votre magicien, Gabriel,_ " Elize snapped. Gabriel smiled.

"Madame Prideaux was a Muggle before I turned her," he told Dumbledore as calmly as if announcing a dinner menu. "That was in the early eighteenth century."

"Thank you. Please, continue," he said with a gesture of his hand—a gesture which snatched the knife out of Elize's hand as he cast a silent, wandless Summoning Spell. She had just long enough for surprise to flicker across her face, then there was a flash of movement, a shriek that ended in a gurgle, and by the time Dumbledore had even picked up his wand, Elize was on the floor with her throat torn out and Gabriel was wrenching the chains out of the wall. Gareth collapsed to the floor with a weak gasp and Dumbledore hurried forward to tap his wand to the chains. To his surprise, as soon as they fell away Gareth's hair changed colour. A glamour like that should need reapplying with a wand after it's removed or faded away.

Gabriel didn't seemed surprised. In two quick motions he snapped Gareth's shoulders back into place, eliciting raspy cries of pain, and then inspected the rest of his injuries.

"His head's the worst," he said, looking at the large bruise on Gareth's right temple. "He needs a healer."

"I can brace him and create a portkey to Saint Mungo's," Dumbledore said, already digging in his pocket for something to use and coming up with a packet of mini Jelly Slugs he didn't remember putting in there. He glanced at Gabriel to be sure he wasn't going to object then cast _Portus_ over the Jelly Slugs. Emergency Portkeys to Saint Mungo's were the only exception to the restriction on their use. That done, he turned to Gareth.

"Gareth, I'm going to put you in a brace then I'm sending you to Saint Mungo's."

Gareth was still conscious, but his eyes were half closed and Dumbledore wasn't sure how aware he was of what was going on, although he seemed to relax slightly when Gabriel tenderly brushed the hair away from his face. He made a soft noise, perhaps an acknowledgement, and Dumbledore waved his wand over the man in a zig zag motion from head to toe. There was no light or other obvious sign of the spell being cast, but Gareth gradually went still. Not stiff, like with a Full Body-Bind Curse, but merely as if everything had stopped moving for him. It would prevent his body from jarring when the Portkey took him, keeping his injuries from worsening with the journey. Several of his fingers were broken, but Dumbledore was able to tuck the Jelly Slugs into his hand and then draw back to ensure he didn't get pulled along when the Portkey activated.

Gabriel stood up as soon as Gareth had vanished and Dumbledore rose as well.

"Why did you ask about Elize's age?"

"An excuse to move, nothing more."

"Hmm. Your help tonight is much appreciated," the vampire said. "I need to find my wife and the rest of my people, but I expect the Ministry idiots will be arriving soon enough. If you wish to leave, your name will not be mentioned."

"How courteous," Dumbledore said. "However, I will remain. I fought with you, I will face the Ministry with you as well."

Gabriel looked him over in a way that suggested he was re-analysing his opinion of the man. Dumbledore hoped it was for the better and felt it probably was when Gabriel held out his hand. Dumbledore shook, and then they headed out to face the aftermath of the battle.

* * *

It was dark when Gareth woke. He came around slowly, cataloguing the aches and pains that were dulled in the familiar way of high strength pain potions. He knew from the smell that he was in a hospital even before his eyes adjusted to the low light and he took in the surroundings of a private room in Saint Mungo's. There was a figure by his bed, hidden in the shadows, but Gareth didn't need to see them to know who it was.

"M'lord."

"How are you feeling?" came the soft reply.

"Ohh, y'know. Great. Love getting tortured."

"Well enough to be snarky, I see."

Gareth chuckled weakly. "Don't take that as sign of health. I'm snarky when I'm dying."

"You're not dying right now, the healers have assured that."

"Nice to hear."

Arms rested on the edge of the bed and light from the hall made the vampire's face visible. "Gareth, I need to know what you told them."

"Usual," Gareth said, turning his head to look up at the ceiling then closing his eyes. "Lies and untruths. Menial trivia."

"What do you mean?"

"Not my first time under the knife, m'lord. I know how to keep secrets. Especially my own and my Master's. But they wanted to me to talk, so I talked. I told them everything I know about animal husbandry."

A hand wrapped around one of Gareth's own, fingers stroking the back of his hand, and he gripped it back.

"You know a lot about animal husbandry?"

"I heard once that hard work was good for the soul and that it was important to understand the simple life, so I once spent a timeline working on a Spanish farm."

"And did you find it good for the soul?"

"I'm not sure, but it wasn't good for my head. Got kicked to death by a spooked horse after about ten years. Didn't feel inclined to take another go."

"No, I can imagine not. What about your appearance? Your scar?"

"Told them I did it to myself when I got drunk celebrating Voldemort's fall, dedication to the Boy Who Lived sort of thing, and use the glamour to hide it in regret. Not sure they believed me, but I don't think they'll consider the truth."

"Good. You should rest. Sleep."

Gareth tightened his fingers around the hand on his and felt them squeeze back. "Wait."

"I'll stay until first light."

Gareth opened his eyes and looked over. "Tell me your name."

There was a pause, then: "Pardon?"

"I can't remember it. I know it, it's in my head, like I can feel it lurking at the back of my mind, but I can't remember it. Tell me."

A sigh. "Memory loss."

"Someone threw a cricket ball at my head, apparently. Tell me your name."

"Is that all you can't remember?"

"I don't know. No. There are other names. I can think of their faces, but not their names. Just tell me yours, please."

"Gabriel," he said softly. "My name's Gabriel Valentine."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Gareth looked up from his book when someone knocked at the open door of the room, smiling and setting the book aside as his visitor came in.

"Hey," Lupin greeted. "I thought I'd come see how you were doing. Brought you some grapes."

"Traditionalist, eh? Thanks. Er… has anyone told you about my memory loss?"

Lupin's smile fell. "No. What kind of memory loss?"

"The kind where I remember who you are, our relationship, every _delicious_ detail of what we did at the end of our date after… bugger. That holiday just passed, big green trees, gaudy decorations?"

"Christmas?"

"Yes, that. I remember our date after Christmas, but I don't remember your name. Sorry."

Lupin shook his head, smiling again. "Don't apologise, it's not your fault. My name's Remus Lupin."

Gareth snapped his fingers. "That's it. It was there," he added, gesturing for Lupin to sit down. "It's all in my head, I haven't really forgotten it, I just couldn't reach it."

"Is it bad?" Lupin asked, concerned.

"Depends on your definition of bad, really. It's mostly names I can't remember." He gestured to his book. "Refreshing my mind on a few things. Albus doesn't think it'll be a problem for work and so far I haven't forgotten anything after I've relearnt it. There's just going to be a lot of students getting called 'Oi, you'."

"Wouldn't be the first teacher to do _that_ ," Lupin noted dryly. "So when are they letting you out? How are you aside from the memory loss?"

"Still a bit sore, but healing. Should be released from this prison tomorrow."

"That bad, huh?"

"You should see what they feed me."

Lupin smiled, but it was fleeting and Gareth could guess what he was going to ask next. "Gareth, I… I was wondering…"

"Why they took me."

"Yes."

"They wanted the kids. Harry and Tori. They know it would devastate Lord Valentine if his children are killed or even badly hurt. I stopped them, so they took me instead."

"But why? I understand them being angry that you stopped them, but why torture you instead of kill you?"

Watching Lupin carefully, Gareth answered, "I work for Lord Valentine."

Lupin frowned, brow furrowing in confusion and wariness. "What do you mean?"

"I'm one of his daylight wizards, for the war. He tasked me with watching over Harry and Tori while they're at Hogwarts." He paused, taking in Lupin's unhappy expression, and then asked, "Is that too much for you?"

Lupin glanced away briefly, frown deepening and fingers tapping against his thigh, before looking back and admitting, "I can't say I'm happy about it. Does Valentine know of us?"

"If he does, he's never said anything, but I've no intention of letting him dictate my relationships just because I work for him. I… am very fond of you, Remus. I'd like the fact that I work for vampires to not be an issue, but I'm also not going to stop working for him if it is."

The frown shifted to more of a scowl. "I wouldn't ask you to. What you do with your life is your choice, but it worries me. Not just working for vampires, but fighting them. Wars and vampires are dangerous alone; together…"

"I'm not a soldier, Remus," Gareth reassured him. "I'm just meant to help watch Harry and Tori."

"Yet you ended up in a major battle last summer and now you've been tortured."

"… true," Gareth said, because Lupin had a point there, "but I won't let myself get caught out by another cricket ball to the head, and I don't think Aurelia would be stupid enough to try what she did at the weekend again."

"I hope not. For your sake and the children's."

"So you're happy to continue dating me even though I work for vampires?"

Lupin's expression finally eased and he smiled softly, rising from his chair to lean over Gareth and kiss him, soft but deep. When they broke apart, he asked, "Does that answer your question?"

"I'm not sure. Do it again," Gareth replied with a grin, and Lupin rolled his eyes but obliged.

Gareth was released the next day. He went to Lynott Manor first, just because he could, and then eventually returned to Hogwarts. He passed seven students on his way up to Dumbledore's office to tell him he was back and felt pleased that he remembered four of their names.

"Ah, welcome back, Gareth," Dumbledore greeted with a smile when he came in. "You're well, I hope?"

"Occasional twinges, but well enough. You said you wanted to talk to me about something when I was released?"

Dumbledore nodded and they both sat, facing one another across the desk. "I am going to be blunt with you, Gareth, and I hope that, in return, you will be honest with me. You did not tell me everything last summer."

Gareth's expression didn't change. "I've got a lot of secrets, Albus," he said, calm and non-defensive. "You've clearly worked out one of them, but you're going to have to give me a little more to work with if you want me to tell you about it."

"Your magic."

Gareth sighed, leaning back in his chair. "That. I'm guessing you saw my glamour go up when the chains came off."

Dumbledore nodded. "Glamour Charms are defined by their limitation; they _have_ to be reapplied regularly, yet yours reasserted itself as soon as your magic was no longer restricted. When we told you we found no wand in the house, you weren't bothered. You don't need one, do you?"

He shook his head. "I haven't for a long time."

"But you use one anyway."

"Do I?" Dumbledore opened his mouth, paused, and frowned. Gareth smiled. "You expected me to use a wand. I just play on that. Tiny bit of subtle magic to nudge the mind into seeing something that isn't there because you already expect it."

"That's clever," Dumbledore said begrudgingly, disgruntled to learn he was hoodwinked by such a simple thing for so long. "Clearly very effective, too. May I see you cast without?"

Gareth waved his hand lazily overhead and the portraits on the walls all switched position without even leaving their pegs, much to the occupants' outrage. Dumbledore tried to hide a smile.

"You ought to put them back. It's generally not a good idea to leave Phineas next to Dexter."

Gareth did so and the portraits settled down again, though continued to grumble about him under their breath and Phineas Black stalked out of his painting and disappeared with a huff.

"Why did you not tell me about this last summer?" Dumbledore asked.

Gareth shrugged. "It's in my nature to keep secrets. Not everyone reacts well when they find out how powerful I am. It scares them. Scared people do stupid things."

"Have other Dumbledores done stupid things?"

"Yes, in the sense that the things they did made an enemy of me, and that's never a good thing to do."

"No, I can imagine not. I assure you I have no intention of doing anything stupid, but I do have one question."

"Shoot."

"Last summer you admitted to me that you knew Quirenus Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort, although at the time you could do nothing about it because of your orders, I understand that. I don't understand how you were so badly beaten by the troll he set on you if you're so powerful and had to have been suspicious of him whilst venturing down to the Stone."

Gareth put a hand to his chest and adopted an exaggerated expression of pain. "Pick on my faults, why don't you? You know how to wound a man, Albus. Well aside from the fact that your counterpart forbid me to use my magic to its fullest extent—he felt I was too powerful to go around unrestricted—Quirrell caught me off guard. I expected him to try and curse me; I didn't expect him to trip me up and slam my face into the wall. I was still trying to figure out which way was up when he set the troll on me."

"You never mentioned that before."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, disgruntled, "everyone thought I was incredibly brave for taking on the troll. No need to tell 'em I was nearly defeated by someone sticking their foot out in front of me."

* * *

Harry was pretty sure that the carnivorous tree in the shadow play from the box was just metaphorical, but he was nevertheless very careful as he went exploring through the Forbidden Forest on the last Sunday of January. After all, the school had a Whomping Willow directly on the grounds; if _that_ was in the open, who knew what was in the darkness of the Forest?

There were rumours of what _was_ in the Forest, of course, which was why he brought his Invisibility Cloak and never let his wand out of his hand. He took Samantha with him, too, both to let her get out a bit and so she could mention anything she might sniff out that he missed.

She was nearly four foot long by now and her vocabulary as good as his own, although she did still prefer conversations that focused on food, sleep, and comfort more than anything else. He used to indulge her, but since the weird disconnect he felt from Parseltongue since he'd killed Voldemort, he took to encouraging her into more diverse conversations so that he wouldn't get out of practice. Besides, there was only so many times he could discuss rat delicacy before he got bored—or nauseous.

He spent most of the morning and half the afternoon exploring. He met centaurs, who advised him to leave and were not particularly polite, but at least didn't threaten him; there were Thestrals, which he petted and kept in mind as a potential ally for the second task; a few species of snakes lived within the forest, the non-magical ones typically unintelligent, but the runespoors were surprisingly well spoken, when he could get them to stop arguing with themselves long enough to talk to him.

He managed to find one that had only two heads left who spoke to him for a while. It told him there weren't any trees in the forest that ate people, or things, and agreed that if Harry ever came back with some decent raw meat then it would help with whatever he wanted at the time. This, he decided, was good enough. He would come back to the forest on the twenty-third and offer it some food in exchange for keeping watch over anyone that came or went that night, and for showing him where they went when he came for the task the next morning. He also decided to take some extra meat along to tempt the Thestrals; the runespoor could get him to the hostage, the Thestral could get him out.

He explored for a bit longer after that, but when he caught sight of a couple of giant spiders going around with a distinctly predatory look to them, he decided he'd explored enough and returned to the castle. It was almost dinner, but he headed down to Slytherin to return Samantha to her terrarium and his Invisibility Cloak to his trunk.

His mind was still mostly focused on planning for the second task, enough so that he didn't even push the door of the dorm open slowly to check if Theo was in there first. They were still avoiding each other whenever possible, but Harry knew it couldn't go on for much longer. At some point they were going to have to talk again and they would have to talk about the kiss.

As it turned out, Theo was in the dorm, but he wasn't alone. Tyler Swift was there too.

And they were kissing.

They broke apart when Harry came in. Theo gave him a half-embarrassed, half-annoyed glance and then looked away, while Tyler's expression was pure apprehension.

"H-hey, Harry," he greeted.

"I'm telling Tori."

The words, which should have sounded like a petulant five year old, came out as a growl that made Tyler hurriedly throw up his hands defensively and cry, "We're not going out!"

"You're certainly not now," Harry said, drawing his wand. "Not unless you go find her right now, confess, and beg her forgiveness. No one cheats on my sister."

"I'm not cheating!" Tyler insisted. "We had fun at the Yule Ball and a few other times but we're not going out. She's not my girlfriend."

He sounded earnest enough, but he also looked scared and Harry didn't trust the admission of a scared person. He would confirm with Tori if it was true, and if it wasn't then Tyler had a chance now to do what Harry had told him to. He stepped sideways and gestured at the door with his wand. "Get out."

Tyler fled.

"I didn't know you'd taken to scaring third years," Theo said conversationally, without disapproval. It was the most he'd spoken to Harry in weeks.

"If he's lying," Harry said, "I'm going to scare you, too."

"I don't scare easily, Harry."

"I'll just have to work extra hard then, because I'm not having anyone breaking my sister's heart."

"I'm not to blame if your sister's boyfriend—which Swift isn't—decides to kiss other people."

"You are if the other people he's kissing includes you. If my sister's boyfriend tries to kiss you, you tell him to shove off and hex him if you have to, or you'll have me to deal with."

It was possible he was apportioning a little too much blame on Theo for what could be something that Harry didn't actually have any right to meddle in, but something about seeing them kiss bothered him in a way unconnected to Tori.

"I'll keep that in mind," Theo said, and left.

With a bit more force than necessary, Harry opened his trunk, stuffed his cloak inside, and slammed it shut again. He put Samantha away and paced the room for a few minutes until he thought Theo had to have left the common room, then headed out and up to the Great Hall. He ignored the Slytherin table completely and searched out Tori, finding her a third of the way down the Ravenclaw one. Tyler was perched on the bench beside her, but he quickly rose and returned to the Slytherin table when Harry approached.

"You're such a moron, Harry," Tori greeted. "I told you I didn't want you interfering with my boyfriends."

"I think I should interfere when I find them kissing other people."

"You can tell me about it, sure. _When_ they're my boyfriend."

"He was telling the truth then?" he asked, sitting down. "You're not going out?"

"No, we're not, so he's welcome to kiss whoever he likes."

"Well sorry, but you two were very close at the Yule Ball," he grumbled, helping himself to some beef stew. "And you were making out with him last week, I know you were because Anita told me she walked in on you in that shortcut between the second floor and the fifth."

"Yes, and now we're not going out."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Just wasn't working out, I guess."

Harry started to ask why again, then decided not to bother. The workings of romantic entanglements seemed painfully obscure to him and he doubted he was ever going to understand.

Of course, maybe if he did then he might understand why Theo and Tyler kissing bothered him so much even now he had confirmation that Tyler hadn't been cheating on Tori. Part of him suggested he should speak to Theo, even if just briefly, to say he knew it was fine for Theo to be kissing Tyler, but another part of him refused and that part won out. Especially when, a couple of days later, he overheard Daphne and Tracey saying that Theo had been seen kissing Lisa Turpin behind the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

When, after confirming the truth of this with Lisa herself, Harry found himself assuring Lisa that _of course_ he didn't mind, Theo was entitled to kiss whoever he liked and Lisa could kiss him to her heart's content, but realising deep in his gut that it _did_ bother him, he realised that what he needed to do was reflect on things.

He ended up in the Astronomy Tower, idly conjuring a swarm of butterflies to accompany him as he leant against the parapet and finally asked himself the question that'd been circling his mind for weeks.

Did he fancy Theo?

His feelings about the other boy hadn't changed, he didn't think. Theo had become his best friend over the past year or so and Harry still thought of him as such. It pained him to think that what happened at the Yule Ball might spoil that, but when he imagined going back to the way things were before it happened… it felt right, but not different. He had no longing for things to change and become something different.

Then there was the kissing. Sure he'd liked it, and he would be content to do it again, maybe even repeatedly, but he also wouldn't care if he didn't. He wasn't even sure if he liked it because he liked it or because he'd been high at the time. Short of asking people to kiss him as an experiment, he didn't see how he could find out, either.

So if he wasn't pining to kiss Theo again and didn't feel differently about him, did that mean he _didn't_ fancy him? But what about the strange twist in his gut he got whenever he thought of Theo kissing Tyler and Lisa? He hesitated to call it jealousy, but didn't understand what else it might be when _he_ wasn't overly inclined to go around snogging Theo. Was it possible to fancy someone without a huge desire to kiss them? If it was, did that mean he'd fancied Theo for ages and never noticed?

He kicked the parapet, irritated. How was anyone supposed to _know_ when they fancied someone? Why couldn't there be a nice, easy method of knowing? Like a buzzer and a flashing red light that went off in your head.

"What's that stone ever done to you?"

He whirled. Theo stood just in front of the door, which Harry hadn't heard opening.

"Nothing. What are you doing up here?"

"Looking for you."

"Oh." That actually surprised him after so long with them avoiding each other. "What do you want?"

Theo came to stand beside him, folding his arms over his chest and watching the butterflies still fluttering about. "I thought it was about time we talked."

Harry glanced at the door. He wasn't sure he was ready for this.

"We _need_ to talk, Harry."

He sighed. They did, whether he was ready for it or not.

"So talk."

A look of irritation flickered across Theo's face at being put in charge of the conversation, but he was the one who sought out Harry.

"Alright," he said, then was silent for a minute. Harry leant back against parapet, staring at the astronomy posters on the wall, waiting for him to talk again, but he couldn't make out what the posters said because he didn't have his reading glasses on. To his great disappointment, he still needed those even after the blood Gabriel gave him a year ago.

"Well…" Theo began hesitantly, "about Christmas… what happened that night… it confused me."

Harry glanced at him, but Theo's gaze was fixed on a butterfly as it decided to fly out towards the forest.

"I liked it," Theo went on. "I liked kissing you, but I didn't understand it because I was mostly sure I didn't fancy you. I decided I needed to figure it out and that's why I was kissing Swift that day."

"And Lisa Turpin."

"I thought you'd heard about that. Yes. I figured if I was going to do an experiment, I had to do it properly. Boys and girls."

"An experiment?" Harry repeated, surprised. Maybe that's what he needed to do. Maybe he should kiss Lisa and… not Tyler. There was something weird about kissing his sister's ex-boyfriend. A different boy, then.

"That's what it was, really."

"And? What were the results?"

"I like kissing. More than I thought I would, actually. It can be a bit messy, but it's oddly enjoyable."

"Okay," Harry said, because he couldn't really comment given his lack of experience. "So…"

Theo finally took his gaze off the butterflies, turning to face Harry fully. "So now I just need to figure out if I liked kissing you because I like kissing or because I like _you_."

"Oh," Harry said.

"But…"

"But what?"

"But you're my friend. My best friend," he said, sounding awkward about it. "To be honest, I've never actually had one of those before. I've never really had a proper friend like you before. I just had the other pureblood kids I had to play with when my parents visited their parents. I don't want to ruin that, Harry. If it turns out I do fancy you, but you don't fancy me, or vice versa, and kissing each other again will make things awkward, then say so and we won't. Or if just kissing, whatever our feelings, will make things weird then say so."

"You don't like not understanding things," Harry pointed out as he tried to decide how he felt about what Theo was suggesting.

Theo shrugged. "No, I don't, but I'd prefer to never figure it out than to figure it out and ruin our friendship. And obviously if you don't want to kiss me at all, that's fine. You haven't said what you think of what happened at Christmas."

"Um… I liked kissing you as well," he admitted hesitantly. "But I don't know if I fancy you, either, and I don't know how I feel about kissing in general because I might have just liked it because I was high."

"Did you want to do an experiment of your own?"

"Maybe," Harry said, "but I don't mind kissing you first. If that's what you want to do now."

"Only if it won't make things awkward between us."

"I think it'll only be awkward if we make it awkward." He wasn't totally sure that was true, but it sounded good and now that Theo was standing right in front of him talking about kissing, he found himself wanting it.

"Alright," Theo said softly, stepping closer. Harry still had his back to the parapet, hands clenching the stone edge and only his head turned towards Theo, but Theo didn't seem to mind. He put one hand on the stone by Harry's and leant in, eyes darting down to Harry's mouth briefly and then back up to Harry's eyes as he closed the space between them.

It was just as good as the Yule Ball. It might even have been better, because his memories of being high were a bit fuzzy. He didn't think about what it meant, either. He just focused on the pleasant sensation of Theo's lips pressed against his, of Theo's hand coming up to cup his cheek, of Theo's body pressed close, warm and inviting and—

"Now really!"

They jerked apart. Professor Sinistra stood in the doorway and they both cleared their throats and didn't look at her. She sniffed.

"Well at least you're not smoking this time," she said. "Get on with you, it's nearly your curfew and I have a class to prepare for."

They hurried out, not speaking as they headed down the tower. Only when they reached the seventh floor and started towards Slytherin did Theo glance sidelong at Harry and say, "What did you think?"

"It was good," Harry said truthfully.

"Yeah. I don't fancy you though. I hope you don't mind. I think I just like kissing people."

"Me too," Harry said, and it wasn't really a lie. Aside from learning that kissing was fun, nothing had changed. He'd had no great revelation either in favour for or against having a crush on Theo. Maybe the kissing experiment was a good idea.

"So we're not awkward, right? Things can go back to normal?"

Harry nodded and smiled to ease Theo's concerned look. "Yeah, everything's fine."

* * *

The twenty-fourth of February dawned bright but cold. Harry felt confident about the second task. He'd been into the Forest the afternoon before to bribe the runespoor, who was meant to meet him in a clearing shortly inside the Forest to tell him where the kidnapped person was, and he already had some raw meat from the house elves in the kitchen to lure a Thestral with.

He, Krum, and Fleur arrived at the edge of the Forbidden Forest shortly before nine o'clock. The judges were set up at a table, along with Madam Pomfrey. The rest of the students were staying in the Great Hall, where large enchanted screens were put up that would show the progress of the three champions, taking images from a pair of enchanted glasses and sound from the same rose quartz crystals they wore in the first task. The judges had pieces of enchanted parchment to watch through, and there were people stationed in the Forest to help in case of an emergency.

Harry had brought his hunk of raw meat in a sack and he was asked to show the judges what he had with him before the task began. He got a strange look from Mr Crouch, who inspected it, but no comment, and Fleur was also asked to show what she had in a small bag. Krum had nothing but his wand. Bagman looked into Fleur's bag and he seemed to find whatever she had confusing, but also said nothing on it before spacing the three champions at ten feet intervals along the edge of the Forest, backing up, and counting down from three.

Harry lost track of Krum and Fleur as soon as they entered and headed straight for the clearing where he'd arranged to meet the runespoor. It wasn't there when he arrived and as the minutes ticked by he got more and more nervous. The meat drew a few Thestrals and he set it down for them to eat, calling out in Parseltongue.

After fifteen minutes the meat was gone and the runespoor still wasn't there, though a couple of other snakes had come out to see what he was shouting about; none of them had anything useful to give him. The Thestrals, after sniffing him and his bag to see if he had any more food on him, began to wander away and he decided to give up on the runespoor. He stopped one of the Thestrals, petted it a bit to let it get used to him, then spoke to it.

"I don't suppose you saw some people getting dragged into the Forest last night or this morning, did you?"

The Thestral nickered. Harry had no idea what it meant. He remembered the Chatty Chimp Decoction he made in first year Potions and cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. He could have coated the meat with it and had a back up plan to the runespoor.

The Thestral started to pull away. He took a chance, stopped it, and clambered onto its back. It made no objection, as calm as the ones back home.

"Can you take me to wherever the kidnapped people are?" he asked it. It snorted and immediately set off and he hoped it was taking him where he wanted and not just in some random direction.

They travelled for twenty minutes, Harry peering through the dark, grateful for the improved night vision he had from his parents' blood. Although it was morning, the Forest canopy was so thick that very little light came through. He searched for any sign of a person tied to a tree, ears perked for cries of help, and also tried to think up an alternate method of searching, just in case the Thestral was merely walking him in circles.

If he knew who the kidnap victim was, it would help because there were spells that worked with just a person's name, but he'd asked Dumbledore about that a few days ago and he said he wasn't allowed to tell. He had no idea what would happen at the end of the hour long time limit, either. He was mostly sure the hostage wouldn't be eaten by a tree, but would the champions be called out or just expected to give up and leave?

At one point they came across two acromantulas that clicked their pincers threateningly and started to advance on him, but he transfigured a stone into a dog and cast a few flashy but pointless spells that made the spiders decide the dog was a better meal than him. He also heard the sound of hoofs and a murmur of voices that he assumed where centaurs, but when he called out, hoping they would know exactly where he needed to go, no one responded and the sounds faded away. Whether because they just didn't want to help or had been warned not to, Harry didn't know.

Eventually the Thestral brought him to a small clearing where he found Tori and Hermione Granger bound to a tree each, unconscious. A third tree between them had some ropes at the base, suggesting someone (Fleur, Harry was guessing) had already saved their victim. A flicker of movement in the leaves above made him look up, but he couldn't see anything. Remembering the elvish creatures in the shadow play, he suddenly wondered if the kidnappers were wood nymphs, which he vaguely remembered from Gabriel's stories as being shy creatures that preferred not to show themselves to humans.

Harry dismounted from the Thestral, asked it to wait, and went to Tori, cutting her free from the ropes and waking her with _Rennervate_.

"Alright?" he asked as soon as she awoke. She nodded, getting to her feet and looking around.

"Nice to see I haven't been eaten," she said, and then, at his startled look, explained, "Dumbledore put us in an enchanted sleep last night. He promised we'd be safe while we were here, but I couldn't help worrying anyway. I suppose you know how to get us out?"

He nodded, directing her over to the Thestral. She still couldn't see them so he got on its back then helped her up. Just as they were about to leave, a strange snuffling noise reached their ears. They both aimed their wands in the direction of it, waiting warily to see what was coming, and their jaws dropped when a strange, half-human, half dog creature entered the clearing. From the neck down, it was human, but its head was that of a bloodhound, and it walked with a sort of hunched lope, as if it wasn't entirely convinced it should really be on two legs. It also carried a pair of glasses in one hand and a wand in the other.

"What the hell is that?" Tori asked, wand fixed on it as it paused and looked at them before approaching Hermione. Harry grabbed her wrist before she could hex it.

"It's Krum!"

" _What?!_ "

"He must have tried to transfigure himself but didn't manage it all the way. At least Hermione's safe now," he said as Krum aimed his wand at the ropes holding the other girl. He barked a spell—literally barked—and when it didn't work he jabbed the ropes with his wand, but that didn't work either and he instead picked up a sharp rock to cut them with.

Harry nudged the Thestral with his knees and told it to take them out of the Forest. It took another twenty-five minutes, meaning they arrived outside the hour time limit, but he was greeted with smiles from Dumbledore and Bagman anyway. Fleur was already there, sitting with a little girl of about eight, and she shot Harry a smug look as he came out and dismounted, clearly pleased with herself about finishing first, although she had a bandage around her ankle. Harry patted the Thestral on its neck, thanked it, and got a nicker and a nudge from its nose before it returned into the Forest. He gave the charmed glasses and rose quartz pendant to the judges then Madam Pomfrey hurried over, insisting on checking over him and Tori even though they both insisted they were fine.

Krum and Hermione returned about ten minutes later, and all of them returned to the Great Hall for the point giving. The three champions were greeted with cheers, and Harry was surrounded by Slytherins as soon as he reached them, patting him on the back and congratulating him while the judges conferred for a minute. Eventually Ludo Bagman called for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision and we have decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows:

"Miss Fleur Delacour demonstrated excellent use of herbology to encourage the approach of a unicorn and use it to reach the hostages. She returned first and was ten minutes within the time limit, however at one point was injured by a serpent and we therefore award her forty-six points."

The students applauded, the Beauxbatons ones the loudest, a few whistling their appreciation.

"Mr Harry Potter used raw meat and personal skills—" Harry snorted softly at the obscure reference to his Parseltongue ability "—to engage serpents and Thestrals, showed apt skill in misdirecting the creatures of the forest to avoid confrontation, and retrieved his hostage without harm to either of them, although he arrived just outside the timeline. We therefore award him forty-three points."

A loud cheer as the vast number of Hogwarts students sounded their approval.

"Mr Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective in guiding him towards his hostage, however he had trouble with several forest creatures and returned well outside the time limit. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior, which was a bit ridiculous when his student was running last for points. Fleur was now in first place with eighty-seven points and looking extremely smug about it, but Harry was only two points behind. He would just have to be quick and clever in the third and final task. With Krum at only eighty points, Harry wasn't worried about him overtaking either of them unless the third task ended up being a Quidditch match.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy didn't commit suicide. He wasn't that type of person. He did _want_ to die, so much so that he'd prepared his will at the same time he started hunting down Voldemort's Horcruxes, but Malfoys did not commit suicide. Malfoys lived. They _fought_ to live, even if sometimes that fighting came in the form of 'strategic retreat'. And he was the last one left now. The rest were all dead, which meant it was his responsibility to make sure the Malfoy line continued.

In truth, it always had been. It wasn't like anyone expected his eccentric younger brother to do it. Tiberius had always been difficult to manage, his mind not all there, and their parents had never even tried to get him a good marriage (or a marriage at all). They'd put their hopes in Lucius to carry on the family name, had been overjoyed at his marriage to Narcissa, and settled for setting Tiberius up with a house where he wouldn't bother anyone and a small income to keep him going.

Tiberius never managed to hold down a job for more than a few weeks, unable to keep his attention on anything for very long and always finding some new thing to fascinate and obsess over, but his last interest had been dragons. Lucius, at the time distracted with Narcissa's trial for performing illegal abortions, hadn't checked in with Tiberius for several months and never realised what the man had done until the authorities contacted him to say Tiberius' house had burnt down, with Tiberius still inside, and they'd found a ten week old dragon in the cellar. Lucius mourned his brother, but a small part of him was guiltily grateful to no longer have to deal with the man.

But there was no continuing the family in Azkaban. He was there for life and even if he wasn't he couldn't imagine ever wanting to wed again. He had loved Narcissa with all his heart. He grew up being told that love was secondary to making a good marriage, but he'd fallen for the perfect woman—intelligent, strong, beautiful, _and_ a respectable pure-blood. And, as a bonus, untouched by the insanity that tended to pop up in the Black family; her sisters were not so fortunate. Bellatrix was obviously not right in the head even as a teenager and Andromeda was so unfortunately affected that it drove her to thinking a Mudblood was a good marriage choice.

Narcissa's death, and Draco's, was such a blow, was so heart-wrenchingly painful, that he could not imagine replacing them. It wasn't possible to replace something like that. His wife and child were not possessions. The hole they left in his heart was not so generically-shaped that just any other woman and child could fill it.

And whatever had stopped the Dementors affecting him before was gone now. Locked in a cell in Azkaban, he felt their cold, soul-sucking presence like he hadn't since Draco and Narcissa died. During the day he thought of every dark moment he had with them, every argument with Narcissa, every time Draco acted out, every time he lost his temper and snapped at them both. At night, he dreamt of Narcissa hanging from the ceiling above his bunk, her skin grey and the rope digging into her throat even as she snarled insults and blamed him, rightly so, for Draco's death. He dreamt of Draco running through the halls of Hogwarts, trying to flee from the teenage Voldemort but always turning a corner to find Riddle waiting for him, and eventually Draco would run out of energy and Riddle would tear out his heart. Draco would bleed black ink and Lucius could do nothing but watch.

But even then, he did not commit suicide. To commit suicide was active. It meant to tear open his wrists or put a noose around his neck. He didn't do that. He just didn't eat. Sometimes he didn't even notice the food coming to him. He was so involved in the memories inside his head, in his own despair, that he forgot the world around. He just stopped living and it took his body eight months to catch up with his mind.

Eventually, at the start of March, he went to sleep and never woke up again.

* * *

With the second task complete and the third several months away, Harry's thoughts turned again to the now irritating matter of romance. He kept wondering about Theo's idea of a kissing experiment, trying to figure out how on earth he was meant to do it. Did he just go up to someone and say 'hey, I want to kiss you just to see whether I like kissing in general or just with my best friend'? He couldn't imagine doing it without it being incredibly awkward and he wasn't even sure he _wanted_ too. He tried to imagine kissing various Hogwarts students, and even some of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons ones, but the idea simply didn't appeal. He didn't think he even _wanted_ to kiss Theo. He'd enjoyed it, sure, but when he imagined doing it again he wasn't struck by a strong desire to grab the other boy by his lapels and snog his brains out.

In the end, he decided not to bother with the experiment at all, a decision that came with such a feeling of relief that it made clear to him what he'd hoped the experiment would: he didn't fancy people. He knew he liked kissing and, as far as he could tell, if he fancied people then he would want to kiss them. Thus, not wanting to kiss people even though it was enjoyable meant he didn't fancy them. If it was anything more complicated than that then he didn't care to know, which also meant he must not fancy people. Realising that was like a great weight lifting off his shoulders.

As for the jealousy, or whatever it was he felt when he thought of Theo kissing other people, he decided to just ignore it. Probably he was just concerned about the effect it would have on their friendship if Theo got a boyfriend or girlfriend, but as Theo didn't seem interested in such a thing, this wasn't a problem.

He and Tori went home for the spring holiday. The damage from the explosion at Lynott Manor in October had all been repaired, but the evidence of it was still clear in the new brickwork making up a large portion of the east wing. There was also a noticeable tension within the house, even to Harry and Tori despite not having access to the vampiresʼ area. When the vampires ventured into the main house, Harry and Tori heard discussions of fights that happened and people who'd died in them. The war was dragging on, neither side advancing much even though the death of Elize Prideaux had been a blow to Aurelia's side.

On their return to Hogwarts, the fourth years were now beginning to prepare for their end of year exams, all except Harry, who was exempt as a Triwizard champion and still waiting to learn what the third task would involve. Not that this meant he slacked off in class; he focused harder, in fact. Who knew what kind of things he'd need to know for the final task? If he wanted to beat Fleur, he'd need all the knowledge he could cram into his brain. His knowledge of spells might outstrip hers, but that wasn't enough for this.

In the final week of May, Gareth held Harry back at the end of a Potions class to inform him that he was to meet Bagman down by the lake that evening. It was on the way there that he took a shortcut out of the castle and found Tori and Tyler snogging in the shadows.

"I thought you two broke up," he said while they straightened their clothes and tried not to look embarrassed.

"We got back together," Tori said with a shrug.

Harry just rolled his eyes and moved on. He didn't get relationships.

He arrived at the lake to find Fleur and Krum already there with Bagman, who greeted Harry with a broad grin and happily showed the three champions a cardboard model he carried with him, gesturing for them all to sit down so they could get a good look at it. It showed a single-story building, made up of three long corridors coming away from a triangular room at the centre, with three larger rooms between each of the corridors.

"These corridors," Bagman explained, pointing to them, "will be broken into several rooms with various challenges. Each of you will go down one set of rooms and here at the centre—" he pointed to the small triangular room "—will be the Triwizard cup. Your task is to get through the challenges and reach the cup. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks. The spectators will watch from these rooms," he said, pointing to the large spaces between the corridors, "with the three walls enchanted to show each of you as you make your way along. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good. Now you will all go through at the same time, however the champion with the most points—" he gave a nod of acknowledgement to Fleur "—will have a brief head start, then Mr Potter will set off, and finally Mr Krum, but you will all have chance to reach the cup depending on how well you tackle your obstacles. Some are the same, but others are… tailored, lets say… to your individual skills and the subjects you've studied in school. I think that's everything… oh, no, I should note that when you go through you can, at any time, go backwards. Any questions?"

Harry nodded. "Where is this…" he searched for a word "… arena… going to be?"

"Ah!" Bagman gave a delighted grin. "We're constructing it to float out on the lake."

Harry, Krum, and Fleur stared at him.

"It'll be ready in time for the task, not to worry. Any more questions?"

"Why would we want to go backwards?" Fleur asked.

"No idea," Bagman admitted, "but you never know. I simply had to make you aware of the possibility. Any more? No? Alright, lets get back, shall we? Bit chilly out…"

As Krum headed off around the lake to the boarding plank for the Durmstrang ship and Fleur made her way across the grounds towards the Beauxbatons carriage, Bagman picked up his model and hurried to walk alongside Harry back to the castle.

"Well done on the second task, Harry," he said. "You've got quite the knack with dark creatures. Vampires, Thestrals, snakes…"

"Snakes aren't dark creatures, Mr Bagman," Harry said coolly, "and I really hope you're not one of those people that believes dark means the same as evil."

"No, of course not." The lie was so obvious Harry had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "I was just commenting. You're doing very well for being the youngest. You're confident about what you have to do for the last task?"

"You explained it clearly."

"Yes, of course, I just meant… well if you're concerned about the challenges you'll face… I'll answer any questions or queries…"

Harry stopped so suddenly that Bagman stumbled when he tried to stop as well, almost dropping his model.

"Mr Bagman, that's the third time you've offered to help me."

Bagman laughed nervously. "W-well, like I said before… just hoping for a Hogwarts victory. I'm sure you agree we don't want one of the others to win."

"I want the most skilled of us to win. I hope that's me, but if it's not then it's not, and if it is I intend to prove it _by myself_."

He didn't wait for Bagman to respond, just stalked back up to the castle alone.

* * *

Gareth was at his desk when Dumbledore arrived at his office on the morning of the twenty-fourth of June, a box of potions set to one side as he wrote on a bit of parchment, head propped on his other hand and a morose expression on his face. He didn't look up when Dumbledore approached, but nodded his head vaguely towards the box.

"All the potions you need for the task."

"Thank you." Dumbledore didn't pick it up, instead looking down at what Gareth was writing, making no effort to disguise what he was doing. Gareth didn't try to hide it and Dumbledore's already terse mood grew worse when he saw line after line of _I will not interfere_ scribbled across the page.

"You said Gabriel Valentine was treating you better than my counterpart," Dumbledore said, unable to keep the harshness from his voice.

"He does," Gareth said without looking up and without stopping. "He's not making me do it, and in case you haven't noticed I'm not using a blood quill."

"Then might I ask why you're writing it?"

Gareth sighed, finally stopping and looking up as Dumbledore sat down. "Do you know what a Key Point is? In relation to a time loop?"

"A fixed event, something that always occurs regardless of what else might change. It's often vital to ending the loop."

Gareth nodded. "So I've been told. Unfortunately, I've got several and I haven't the faintest idea how to use them to break my loop."

"Today is one?" Dumbledore asked. "That's why you're writing?

"An event that happens today," Gareth confirmed.

"And you don't think you should interfere with it?"

Gareth sighed again, putting quill to parchment once more. "It doesn't matter if I interfere or not. It'll happen. It always happens. I've tried over and over again to stop it, but I never can."

"What is it? Perhaps I can help."

Gareth was shaking his head before Dumbledore even finished offering. "No, I've done that before. When other people try to interfere—most of the time when I try to interfere too—it only results in the event being in some way their fault. I won't put that guilt on you, Albus. You've been good to me."

Dumbledore frowned, trying to imagine what could happen that day that, if he interfered, would make him responsible for it, but he'd never believed much in Divination, and trying to figure out even the near future was exactly that.

Still… there was the news he'd received just before coming down to see Gareth.

"Does your Key Point have anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament and the third task?"

Gareth shrugged. "I don't know."

"But you said…"

He waved his hand dismissively, splattering ink across the desk. "One certain thing, yes, but the details surrounding it change, and at least one of the major contributing factors is already out of the question. I don't know when it will happen, except that it will occur before midnight, and I don't know how."

He started writing again and Dumbledore watched, worried. "You said you had more than one Key Point. Do they all bother you this much? Why does this one then?" he asked when Gareth shook his head.

"Because it's so pointless," he said quietly. "It's so stupid and ridiculous and a _waste_. I understand some, like the death of… damnit… the woman who's counterpart to my mother."

"Lily Potter."

"Right, Lily. Her death is one, and I get that. Unless I personally interfere, then she always falls to Voldemort and I get that because it's in her nature, all of the various incarnations, to die for her son. I can understand Lady Fate not liking it when I kill or incapacitate Voldemort, or in some way cause someone else to, so She takes steps to make Lily die anyway. And a certain thing that my counterparts always do sometime between their seventh and eighth birthday—and don't ask me what, I'm not telling—I understand why that always happens, too. I'm pretty sure that one's crucial to breaking my loop."

"Did you do it?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, and it shaped my future in so many ways. It shapes their futures, too. Don't look like that," he added when Dumbledore frowned, jabbing the feather end of his quill at Dumbledore. "For the most part, it changes it for the better. For a lot of them, if they hadn't done it, their lives could be a lot worse."

"I shall have to take your word for it," Dumbledore said, but he was immensely curious about what this thing was that young Harry had done. "Is it just the three Key Points?"

"No, there's a few more, and like I said, all of them except today's are, in one way or another, understandable."

"Perhaps understanding it is the key to changing it," Dumbledore suggested.

"Tell me that again when you know what it is."

"I may already," Dumbledore said, prompting a sharp, questioning look from Gareth even as the other man put quill back to paper. "An hour ago I received word that Bartemius Crouch was found murdered in his home."

Gareth's quill froze. For a moment he said nothing and Dumbledore could almost see the wheels turning inside his head, then he said, "The house elf, was she killed like Barty or hit with a Killing Curse?"

"I didn't mention a house elf, nor how Barty was killed," Dumbledore remarked, but Gareth shot him such a foul look that he answered the question. "She was struck with a Killing Curse. Is that pertinent to the Key Point?"

"No, neither of these deaths are part of it," Gareth said. "But…" Another moment's hard thinking, then he put the quill down. "It was his son."

"I'm sorry?"

"Barty's son, he killed them," Gareth said, and then went onto explain that thirteen years ago Bartemius Crouch snuck his imprisoned son out of Azkaban as his wife's dying wish and, since then, kept him hidden at home under the Imperius Curse and invisibility cloaks. "But now he broke it and he killed Barty in vengeance. He'll go in search of… no, wait."

"What?" Dumbledore asked, sensing the sudden urgency in Gareth's tone.

"Was Barty one of the people in the know about Voldemort's death last summer?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Then his son will come here," Gareth said bluntly. "He'll want revenge on Harry."

"You're certain of all this? Then I'll send immediate word to the Ministry to enact a manhunt," he said when Gareth nodded, standing.

"Don't bother. Crouch is intelligent, Albus, you know that," he said at Dumbledore's harsh look. "All those years under the Imperius doesn't dull his mind, it just unhinges it, and all that means is his intelligence is unpredictable. But he didn't kill the house elf violently—means he's still sane enough to differentiate between friend and enemy: she was kind to him, he was kind to her, in his own way. They attack him en route and it'll be a fight that could end in a lot of deaths. He's coming here, I guarantee it, so get them to send some Aurors to apprehend him when he enters; he won't be expecting it and the whole thing might be resolved without anyone dying."

"Very well. Is this your idea of not interfering?"

"There's a difference between not interfering and making sure that a Death Eater doesn't get into Hogwarts. What will happen will happen, but with someone like Crouch involved it could be a lot worse."

"There's nothing I can do to convince you to tell me what this event is?" he asked, and sighed when Gareth shook his head. "Just tell me if it's safe to continue with the third task."

"Yes."

Dumbledore scrutinised him, searching for a hint of lying, but found nothing and even if he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to convince the Ministry to postpone the task. Already the arena was being set up on the lake. Not to mention Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff would never allow it; they would think he was trying to cheat and give Harry some advantage.

He picked up the box of potions. "Alright. You know where to find me if you change your mind."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The Slytherin table was noisy at breakfast on the morning of the twenty-fourth. Many of them called encouragement to Harry for the task that evening and several students from the other houses came over to do the same. Gareth came down shortly before the meal was over to inform him that the champions' families were in the side room off the hall, invited to watch the final task.

"Jennifer is here," he added at Harry's surprised look, "but she says your parents are coming this evening, given that the task starts at dusk."

Across the table from Harry, Daphne Greengrass spilled yoghurt down her front. "His _parents_ are coming? The vampires?"

"Yes, Miss Greengrass," Gareth said, looking slightly amused at her expression. "The vampires."

"But—is that safe?" She shot Harry a wary look as she said it, edging back slightly at his scowl, but still looked to Gareth for an answer.

"Lord and Lady Valentine will not harm you, or any other student, Miss Greengrass, I assure you. The headmaster would not permit them into the school if they did."

Daphne nodded but still looked worried. Harry expected the whole school would know about his parents' visit by lunchtime.

He finished his cereal, wished Tori luck on her last few exams as he passed her, and made for the side room. He saw Mr and Mrs Krum waiting in one corner and opposite them Fleur was talking rapidly in French with her mother, her little sister hanging off her arm, while her father was chatting away with Jennifer, also in French. Jennifer noticed him first.

«Harry, there you are,» Jennifer greeted, waving him over and introducing him to Monsieur Delacour then informing him that she went to school with the man, although she was several years below him. Harry spoke a little with Fleur, while her sister stood shyly behind her, peering around at Harry. He'd never really spoken with Fleur before and their conversation now was awkward. She clearly had little interest in him, and he didn't know what to say to her, either.

At Jennifer's suggestion, Harry showed her and the Delacours around the school, spending the morning looking around the grounds and, when they passed the lake, briefly discussing what might be in the huge floating arena already waiting on the water for them. When Fleur took her parents into the Beauxbatons carriage to meet her fellow students and greet Madame Maxime, Harry and Jennifer waited outside, but not long after Maxime came out to greet Jennifer. She even mentioned that it was a pity Harry hadn't attended Beauxbatons.

At lunch Harry and Jennifer sat at the Ravenclaw table with Tori, who asked how everything was at home and nattered about her exams. After, Harry showed Jennifer and the Delacours around the castle and then they all returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. It was later than usual but still not quite dark yet, so Harry was surprised to arrive and find Gareth waiting near the entrance with his parents.

"Mum! Dad! How'd you get here?"

"Portkey," Lorna said, hugging him. "How else?"

They waited there for Tori to arrive then headed into the Great Hall. Lorna and Gabriel hesitated slightly at the sight of the enchanted ceiling, which was painted red with the glow of the setting sun, but it couldn't hurt them and the windows had all been darkened, Harry noticed. They took seats at the Slytherin table, Tori joining them, and although Harry and Tori sat on either side of their parents, there was still a noticeable amount of space around them. Theo was the only one willing to come close, sitting opposite them and next to Jennifer.

"Hey, look," Tori said partway through the meal, gesturing at the staff table. "Mr Crouch isn't there."

Harry looked. Crouch was indeed missing. In his place was the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He sat beside Madame Maxime looking stern and not talking much, and Harry noticed that Bagman and Dumbledore looked a touch more subdued than normal. Dumbledore kept glancing at Gareth, who just stared at his plate, ignoring him.

"I wonder why," he mused. "They never said anything about having a special judge for the third task."

There were a lot more courses than normal. Above them, the sky darkened and when it was a finally a dusky purple, dark enough that Gabriel and Lorna would be able to head outside unharmed, Dumbledore stood up and silence fell over the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. Would the champions please remain in their seats while everyone else makes their way down to the lake now."

Harry stayed put as everyone else rose. Theo wished him good luck and left, but his parents, Jennifer, and Tori waited until almost everyone else was gone before they left, walking out with Gareth, who'd waited by the door for them.

Finally only Harry, Krum, Fleur, and Bagman were left, the Great Hall feeling a lot larger now that it was so empty. Bagman came down from the staff table, grinning at the three of them, and had them follow him out across the Entrance Hall to wait at the bottom of the steps out of the castle. They could see the lake from here and it looked as if the boats that carried the first years across it on the first day of term were now carrying the spectators across the water.

Bagman handed out the rose quartz necklaces as they watched and then approached Harry. "Feeling all right, Harry? Confident?"

Harry shot him a dark look. "I'm fine."

It was mostly true. He was a touch nervous, but he'd spent the past month reading extra books on potions, plants, and magical creatures, the things he felt most likely to be a challenge to him. He just wished he'd been able to have a cigarette at some point that day, but with Jennifer with him the whole time he hadn't had chance.

Eventually all the spectators had vanished into the viewing rooms and Bagman said they could go. They all climbed into the last boat waiting at the edge of the lake and, as it took them across, Harry noticed there were a few figures on top of the arena. Only when they reached it, disembarking onto a narrow platform surrounding the arena, was he able to see in the darkness that the figures on top were the other four judges—and his parents and Gareth.

Given the size of the whole arena, Harry had to assume that all the rooms had Undetectable Expansion Charms on them. From the outside, the arena just looked like an uneven hexagon, alternating long and short sides, with a door set into each of the six walls. Bagman guided them to the nearest one set into a short side, explaining, "The judges will be watching through the roofs."

"What about Potter-Valentine's parents?" Fleur asked, a disdainful tone to her voice. Vampires and veelas, Harry remembered, didn't often get on. "Ze vampires?"

"Oh, well," Bagman said, shooting Harry an apologetic look, "we prefer them not to be mixed in with the other spectators."

"Wise choice," Krum grunted. Harry resisted the urge to push him into the lake. Perhaps realising, Bagman left Krum at the door and hurried Fleur and Harry around the platform to the next one, where he left Fleur, and then to the last for Harry, before clambering up a ladder against one wall to join the rest of the judges. He exchanged a few words with them and then touched his wand to his throat, casting a charm that spread his voice into the viewing chambers for everyone to hear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, on eighty-seven points—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy! In second place, on eighty-five points—Mr Harry Potter-Valentine, of Hogwarts School! And in third place—Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! They are each racing to reach the Triwizard Cup at the centre of the arena. So on my whistle, Miss Delacour. Three—two—one—"

He blew and Harry heard the sound of a door opening and closing. He gripped his wand and shuffled impatiently from foot to foot, listening to the lake water sloshing gently against the sides of the arena, the slim crescent moon reflected in the rippling water, the sun now well below the horizon. When Bagman blew his whistle a second time, he jumped slightly, fumbled the handle of the door, and finally let himself in.

As soon as the door shut behind him, fire sprang up in front of both it and the door on the opposite side of the room, making him jump. The one behind him was bright purple whilst the one in front was black. In the middle of the room was a table holding a small cauldron, a standard brewing kit, a box of ingredients, three vials of potion, and a slip of parchment, on which was written: _One sends you back, one sends you forwards, one sends you to the grave. Will you figure out which or take your chances and guess?_

"Lovely," Harry muttered, looking over what was provided. He was fairly sure he know how to brew a poison detection potion with the things there, but it would take time and this was a race. He wasn't bad at speed brewing, but he had no idea how fast Fleur and Krum were—if they had the same task.

He rounded the table and approached the black fire. He'd try spell casting before he resigned himself to the potions. Potions would protect him from the harmful flames, but it would be quicker just to get rid of the fire entirely.

" _Finite Incantatem! Aquamenti!_ "

He wasn't surprised when neither spell worked, but he tried several more and let out a loud 'ha!' of triumph when an Ancient Greek spell made the flames vanish. Grinning, he hurried through the door—

—and stopped short when he found himself face to face with a mass of writhing green tentacles. They immediately lashed towards him and he darted back through the door, suddenly realising why Bagman had said they could go backwards.

He cast a See Through Spell on the door so he could inspect the plant without it attacking him. After a minute of close inspection, he felt sure it was the venomous tentacular. Steeling himself, he opened the door just enough to stick his arm through and cast the most powerful fire spell he knew that wasn't Fiendfyre. He shut it again and watched through the door as the plant burned up and only when it was reduced almost to ashes did he venture through again, covering his mouth against the soot and lingering smoke as he hurried through to the next door.

Inside the third room, which was large enough to confirm his suspicions about the Undetectable Expansion Charms, were three of the castle's suits of armour, complete with shields and swords. As soon as he shut the door behind him, they raised their swords and shields and he had just enough time to cast a strong shield charm before they attacked. He still flinched when two of their swords bounced off the shield. The third suit remained in place, steadfastly positioned in front of the door he needed to go through.

One of them managed to catch him in the gut with its shield as he tried to stop them. His stunning spells were useless, there was no point disarming them when there was nowhere for their weapons to go that they couldn't just pick them up again, and his attempts to vanish and dismember them had no effect. Obviously they'd been well enchanted beforehand.

Eventually he tricked one of them into the previous room by standing in front of the door as the armour charged at him and then opening it and stepping aside in time for the armour to go crashing through. He quickly shut it again and locked it, then dodged a swipe from the sword of the second piece of active armour. He didn't move quick enough and the tip slashed through his robe and cut a shallow line through his shoulder. He staggered away, waving his wand towards the armour's feet in an incomplete oval motion.

" _Colloshoo!_ "

The armour's feet stuck fast to the floor. Its upper body swayed forward, it dropped its shield, and then it swayed back, its knees bent, and its body collapsed to the floor. It tried to push itself up again, but its stuck feet and awkward position left it struggling, and Harry turned his attention to the final suit, which still remained in front of the door. He'd already tried Blasting Hexes on the other two, to no effect, so he didn't bother now. He tried levitating it, but its feet seemed to be stuck to the floor.

He tended to the cut on his shoulder as he thought about what to do, cleaning away the blood and then healing the wound with a tap of his wand, repairing his robe over it. Although the third armour had sword and shield, it didn't seem inclined to attack him, no matter what. So if he couldn't move it and couldn't destroy it, he needed some way of getting himself around it.

He tried a simple Shrinking Hex and was honestly surprised when it worked. The armour stayed where it was, but it was now small enough for him to just climb over and go through the door. He did so with a grin, wondering what faced him next.

At first he through the room was empty, but when he shut the door behind him, cold water started pouring out of the ceiling like rain, making him jump and swear. He crossed quickly to the other door as water started to pool around his feet, but it was locked fast. He tried several unlocking charms of varying strengths, but when even the strongest one he knew didn't work he frowned and tried a Spell Detection Charm. He swore again when he found that the locking charm on this door was Magic Locked—it was linked to the magic of the person who had applied the charm, so only they could disable it. The only other way to open the door was to activate a trigger spell.

He just had to figure out what the trigger was. One more spell determined that it was an action trigger, rather than a password, which meant he had to figure it out himself. For passwords, there was a neat little spell that would reveal it to him.

The water was up to his knees by then and making him shiver as he looked around, trying to figure out how he was supposed to move on. Was the point of the task patience? Did he need to let the water get to a certain height, or even fill all the way up? A Bubblehead Charm would protect him from drowning if that was the case and at this rate it wouldn't take long. But could he spare even that long? He had no idea how far along Krum and Fleur were and no idea how many rooms he had to go through to get to the end.

He considered it for a quick moment, then decided to try something else first. He pointed his wand at the ceiling and tried _Finite Incantatem_ then, when that didn't work, used _Meteolojinx Recanto_ , smiling grimly when the rain stopped. The door didn't open and, hoping he wasn't wasting time, he vanished all the water currently filling the room. To his great delight, as soon as it was gone the door clicked and he paused just long enough to cast a quick Drying Charm before he headed through.

This one was empty too, but he was not assaulted by water again. Instead there were runes carved into the next door and when he reached for the handle it sparked, making him jerk his hand back and then suck his singed fingers. He inspected the runes, digging through his memories for everything he'd learnt in class. There were runes for locking, for sturdiness against breakage, and for protection against magic. There was also, in the very centre of the door, some runes that had no power but simply translated to:

"I am locked?" he muttered to himself. "Well duh, of course you are. That doesn't help me."

Except in the runic language, the symbol for 'locked' was at the start of the sentence. The door was protected against magic and breakage, but runic magic depended on the rune's existence and a single runic spell didn't require all the parts of it be invoked in the same way. It meant he could conjure a bit of chalk and add the symbol for 'not' in front of the one for 'locked'.

Nothing happened. When he cautiously tested the handle, it sparked again.

"Bugger." He sucked his fingers staring at the runes, then almost slapped himself on the head. This particular branch of runes always put negatives at the _end_ of a sentence. He rubbed out the mark he'd written, rewrote it after the carved words, and was rewarded with the click of the lock. He cautiously tested the handle again then twisted it open and stepped through.

There was a werewolf in the next room.

He shrieked, hurling himself backwards so fast he collapsed on the floor, but he jerked his wand up and the door slammed shut. He heard it rattle as the werewolf crashed against it, and then there was silence except for the pounding of his heart in his chest and his short, gasping breathes.

A fucking _werewolf_. What the _hell_ where they thinking putting one of those in this accursed task? He could be killed! Worse, he could be _bit_. His parents would disown him and he would throw himself from the Astronomy Tower and greet hell with open arms rather than live with that curse. He might not even wait that long, he might just use the Killing Curse on himself then and there. Anything was better than surviving to see the next full moon—

He blinked. The full moon. Werewolves only transformed then and tonight _wasn't_ a full moon. It was in the last quarter right now, moving towards a new moon, which meant that whatever was in the next room wasn't a werewolf.

So what looked like a werewolf but wasn't? A real wolf? They weren't native to Great Britain, but one could have been imported. There were physical differences between them, he just needed to look.

He stood up and cast a See Through Spell on the door, a one-way one so that the creature wouldn't try attacking the door when it saw him—but the wolf was gone. In its place was a weird shapeless thing that seemed to be solid, liquid, and smoke all at once. He had no idea how that was possible and his brain insisted it wasn't, but he could figure no other way to describe what he was seeing. It just didn't make sense.

He closed his eyes and opened them again, but nothing changed. Had he gone mad? Was it the effect of the room to make whatever was in it seem like this strange thing until he was actually in the room as well? Maybe it would become a werewolf—or at least, imitate a werewolf—when he went back inside.

" _Oh..._ " he said, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Werewolves were his worst fear. Was this thing a Boggart and what he was looking at right now was the creature in its natural form? It made sense. There were no descriptions of what a Boggart looked like when it wasn't shape shifting (though it struck him as strange that no one had examined one through a one-way See Through Spell) and it would fit the pattern so far. He'd had a room of potions, plants, transfigured objects, charmed rain, and runes—all representatives of classes available at Hogwarts. The Boggart would be Defence Against the Dark Arts.

So how did he make a werewolf amusing? Put it in a clown suit? But then, he found clowns kind of creepy, too. A tutu? Maybe a tutu and roller skates, with wine gums for teeth... that would work, he thought, already feeling his lips twitch at the image in his head.

He took a deep breath, dispelled the See Through Spell, focused on the image, and jerked open the door. The Boggart-werewolf snarled, but Harry thrust his wand out and yelled, " _Riddikulus!_ " There was a crack and the wolf was suddenly dressed in a full pink ballerina's costume and roller skates, its gnashing teeth replaced by multicoloured sweets. Harry laughed aloud and the creature exploded in a wisp of smoke.

Wary of getting caught out again, he cast a See Through Spell on the door before he opened it, but in the next room there was just a table holding twenty cans of Heinz Baked Beans and a tin opener. Suspecting he knew what this was about, he nevertheless moved through and checked the other door; he wasn't surprised to find that, like the one in the raining room, it was Magic Locked.

But unlike the ones before, this door had an actual lock instead of just a handle, and the key was probably in one of the cans of beans, which were also enchanted against magical opening. He tried shaking them, but he couldn't hear anything inside them so he sighed and set about using the tin opener. He did conjure a bowl when he found that the beans were still in the tin, requiring him to pour out each can to find the key. Typically, it was in the third to last one he opened. He shook off the excess sauce and hurried to the door, unlocking it and using the See Through Spell to check through before he carried on. He was glad he did, because the next room contained a Sphinx.

Wiping his fingers on his robe, he cautiously moved through. They'd learnt about Sphinxes last term in Care of Magical Creatures, though they hadn't had a live specimen, and he knew they weren't automatically violent beings. They delighted in puzzles and riddles and only attacked when the thing they guarded was threatened.

This one sat directly in front of the door to the next room and when he paused just in front of her she said, "I have a riddle for you. Answer it correctly on the first try and I will let you pass. Get it wrong and I will attack. Say nothing and you can walk away."

"That won't get me to the Triwizard cup."

The sphinx just smiled.

"Alright, so what's the riddle?"

"The person who makes me doesn't want me, the person who buys me doesn't need me, and the person who uses me can't appreciate me. What am I?"

Under the guise of pacing the room, Harry glanced around the sphinx at the door, but he could tell that there was no way he was getting to it without either answering her riddle or fighting her, which he didn't fancy doing. Sphinxes were one of those creatures with a natural resilience to magic. Knowing spells wasn't enough—he needed the kind of firepower that only came with multiple wizards.

So the riddle.

The first part was hardest. Anyone who made something just to sell it wouldn't want it. He couldn't see his way around that, so he moved onto the second bit. Why buy something if you didn't need it? Either because you just wanted it or, and he thought this was more likely, because you were buying it for someone else. That fitted with the third part, because most people didn't buy something for themselves that they wouldn't appreciate in one way or another.

So who wouldn't appreciate something they used? A rude or perpetually grumpy person might not appreciate _anything_ , but that didn't quite fit the phrasing. 'The person who uses me _can't_ appreciate me.' Not doesn't or won't, but can't. So the person using it was incapable of being grateful for the thing... a sleeping or dead person? And it was something bought for them by someone else. Beds and their accompanying furnishings weren't the kind of thing most people bought as gifts, except maybe a nice duvet cover, but dead people couldn't buy _anything_ for themselves and what did a dead person need anyway? They were dead. The only thing left for them was to be buried or—

He turned to the sphinx, but gripped his wand tightly in his hand just in case he was wrong. "Is it a coffin?"

"Is that your answer?"

He hesitated. Sectumsempra was at the forefront of his mind. "Yes. A coffin."

The sphinx smiled broadly, stood, and moved aside.

"Thanks," he told her, but kept a cautious eye on her as he checked through the door before moving into the next room.

The door of this room had, instead of a handle, a combination lock made up of seven numbers. There was a table in the middle of the room with a quill, an ink pot, and a piece of parchment containing a numerology puzzle. By habit he checked the door first, but again it was Magic Locked and any spells cast on the lock itself made the tumblers spin wildly. He wondered why there hadn't been a Magic Lock on the fires in the first room, but they _had_ been pretty heavily enchanted and the spell he used on them was archaic; presumably they expected most people to give up after finding the fire resistant to modern spells and would therefore have to rely on the potions.

He duplicated the parchment with the puzzle, just in case he got it wrong, and spent what felt like far too long figuring it out. He got it wrong the first time, ending up with only a six digit solution, and almost upset the inkpot in irritation at having to start over. When it was done a second time, he checked it over carefully to be sure he had the right answer, then approached the door and put in the string of digits.

To his great surprise, in the next room he found Professor Binns.

"Er, hi, professor."

The ghost looked at him, hovering in front of the door. "Mr Potter-Valentine. If you wish to proceed, you must answer three questions."

Harry looked through him then refocused his gaze on the ghost. "I don't see why I can't just walk through you, sir. I know it'd be rude, for which I apologise, but I'm in a race, here."

"Oh certainly," Binns said with a sniff, and floated aside. "By all means, go ahead."

Knowing what he'd find, Harry checked the door, then sighed and looked to Binns.

"Ectoplasmic lock," the ghost said.

"Alright, what are the three questions?"

"Question one: Why did the wizarding community of Liechtenstein contest the appointment of Pierre Bonaccord as the first Supreme Mugwump?"

Harry swore under his breath. He hadn't put much focus on History of Magic; he hadn't thought it was something that could be incorporated into the tournament.

"Do I need to get the answer right the first time?" he asked, remembering the sphinx.

"No, but I will not allow you to pass until you provide the correct answer."

"Alright... Liechtenstein... Bonaccord... something to do with trolls, wasn't it? Um..." he dug into the recesses of his memory, trying to remembers hours listening to Binns droning lectures. Why did the ghost have to make history so boring? It made it so much harder to remember.

But the answer eventually came to him. "Bonaccord was trying to ban troll hunting and give them rights, but Liechtenstein was having trouble with a tribe of violent mountain trolls at the time."

"Correct," Binns said. "Question two: when did the most famous warlocks' convention occur, and what was the purpose of it?"

Harry felt sure he should know that. He had a feeling it was something they'd studied in first year History of Magic, but right then the answer eluded him. He paced the room, racking his brains and muttering to himself, until he eventually blurted out, "The dragons! They made the law against dragon breeding and it happened in... in... seventeen... oh... nine?"

"Correct. Question three: how was the Statute of Secrecy breached in seventeen forty-nine?"

Harry grinned. That one was easy. "Dad—I mean, Gabriel Valentine—and Elize Prideaux threw a 'blood party' in Versailles which included a guest list of half the nobles in France and the King." He hoped Binns didn't ask which King. He was pretty sure it was a Louis, but France had had a lot of King Louises.

When Binns didn't immediately say he was right, his grin faded. "Er, wasn't it?"

"The blood party was the reason," Binns said slowly, "but the hosts of the party are as yet unidentified. Gabriel Valentine is your father?"

Harry blinked at him. He thought _everyone_ at Hogwarts knew that. "Yes."

"Good grief."

A pause.

"So, er... the door?" Harry said, when Binns did nothing else.

"Oh, yes." He floated to the door, stuck his hand through the lock, and wiggled it about until something clicked. "Carry on."

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

He groaned aloud when he saw the next challenge. It was in a circular room and the floor was made up of concentric wooden circles that could be twisted, all of them painted in deep purple with twinkling white stars on them. Astronomy, which he still sucked at. He didn't bother wasting time trying the door, just got to work on figuring out the correct position of the circles. It seemed to take forever before he managed to twist them into position to show the area of the sky with the constellation Leo and the door clicked.

He moved into the next room wearily, wondering how many more he had left. He was sure hours had passed since he began and he was wondering if Krum and Fleur had already finished their challenges. Maybe Bagman had a point about his age being a problem. He might be a master of spells, but this task highlighted that that wasn't enough for a wizard. There was so much more to know, so many other skills, and he only had a fourth year's knowledge of them. Krum and Fleur probably breezed through their problems.

The next room had seven doors, not counting the one he came through, and in the middle was a table, chair, and a crystal ball. Harry couldn't help himself.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" he cried. Presumably he was meant to use the crystal ball to figure out which of the doors to go through, but the only things he'd ever seen in a crystal ball were smoke and his reflection. Besides, how was divining the right door meant to _open_ said door?

That made him check them. He found that, while all of them where locked, only the third from the left had a password trigger spell. So he was supposed to divine the password that would get him through. That was ridiculous; Divination was bollocks. True, Trelawney predicted his death with annoying regularity, and there had been that thing with Hermione quitting the class last year and several predictions about Neville breaking things and being late, but that didn't mean anything. She obviously just got a kick out of predicting disaster and mayhem, Hermione had made it clear from the very start that she didn't like Divination, and _anyone_ could make a prediction about Neville breaking something and there was a 95% chance it would come true because Neville was clumsy like that. There were the prophecies, but they were a different thing altogether than crystal gazing. It didn't mean Divination actually _worked_.

And the time spent trying to figure out a password that could be anything was time wasted. Fleur and Krum were probably already finished with their challenges. Probably everyone was complaining about how long it was taking him. Most of them might even have left to return to the castle while only the judges and his parents remained to see him through it. He refused to waste anymore time doing something completely ridiculous, and there was a far simpler way to find out the password for a coded trigger spell.

He stuck the tip of his wand in the key hole, twisted it slowly, and pronounced carefully, " _Kupucontra whakitee_."

It wasn't one of the old, near forgotten spells but it was uncommon so he hoped it wouldn't be protected against and he got lucky. As he cast the spell smoky words drifted up from his wand. _The End is Nigh._

"Encouraging," he muttered, withdrawing his wand and saying the password. The lock clicked, he opened the door, and stepped through. He hadn't bothered to check what was in the room beyond and was therefore pleasantly surprised to find himself at the end. He was in the triangular room, the Triwizard Cup sat on a pedestal in the middle and Viktor Krum leant against one wall. There were two more doors, the one in Krum's wall sitting open slightly.

"I beat Fleur?" Harry said, surprised. Krum nodded. "Wow. Cool."

He approached the Triwizard Cup, his grim mood fading as he realised he might still have a chance at winning. Krum would get full marks for reaching the cup first, but depending on the score the judges awarded him, Harry, he might still have a chance at taking the lead spot. Fleur would surely not be able to win it when she came last in this task.

He hadn't seen the Triwizard Cup before. It was a foot tall, made of crystal and platinum, its handles wrought into wingless dragons and another one coiled around its base. He reached out and brushed his fingers over the base then jerked back when it let out a crisp, clear note of sound and the crystal parts started glowing blue.

"Vot did you do?" Krum demanded, straightening up from the wall as the sound faded.

"I just touched it!" Harry cried. Krum approached. He cautiously reached out and tapped a finger against the dragon on the base, and another, deeper note rang out. The champions glanced at one another.

"Vy is it doing that?"

Harry shrugged, but then he remembered Bagman's words when he first explained the task to them. A slight, faintly hopeful suspicion rising in his chest, he asked Krum, "Did you touch it when you first got here?"

Krum shook his head and touched his quartz pendant. "I only asked if I vas supposed to vait until you and Fleur finished."

Harry fought not to smile, but before he could explain his theory, the third door opened and Fleur came through. Her clothes were slightly singed and she couldn't hide her disgruntlement at finding herself the last one to finish.

"Well?" she said, slightly huffily. "Which of you came first?"

"I did," Krum answered immediately.

"Yes," Harry said, still fighting back a smile, "but I'm not sure you won."

"Vot do you mean? Of course, I von! I vos first!"

"Yeah, but you didn't touch the cup," Harry told him, letting his smile come through now. "That's what Bagman said when he explained the task to us. He said the first person to _touch_ the cup gets full marks. Not the first person to finish their challenges. And you didn't touch the cup first. I did. I think that's why it made that noise and lit up."

A look of horror spread across Krum's face.

"I think you need to touch it now," Harry said to Fleur, who glanced between the two boys but swept forward and pressed a finger to the rim of the cup. It let out a third, even deeper note, and then there was a whirring sound as the roof above their heads retracted in on itself.

The floor shuddered and then began to rise and they steadied themselves as it lifted them up to the roof of the arena. They could hear applause and cheering now and when the floor shuddered to a halt Harry saw the roofs of viewing rooms were also gone, the spectators inside yelling their delight, jumping up and down, although he noticed the Durmstrang students were less than enthusiastic. The judges and Harry's parents stood on the roofs of the corridors, applauding as well—all except Karkaroff, who looked utterly furious, which was all the confirmation Harry needed for his theory about the cup.

* * *

Sirius crouched by Hogwarts' front gate, wand lit to let him see the map spread before him. Next to him, his cousin Tonks peered at the map as well, and Kingsley was hidden somewhere in the trees lining the path.

" _You_ made this?" Tonks said, awe evident in her voice. Less than a year out of training and she was shaping up to a be a good Auror under Kingsley's guidance. Sirius suspected he wasn't going to get his old partner back when he was returned to the DMLE in a few weeks, after the school year ended. He didn't mind; Kingsley was great, but that was exactly why Tonks should stick with him. Otherwise she might get partnered with someone like Dawlish and that was a disaster in the works. Dawlish thought that being an Auror made him more important than it did, and on top of that he was sexist, racist, and several other -ists. Unfortunately he was also decent at his job. Not good, and certainly not a good mentor, but not bad enough to get him fired despite his multitude of personality flaws.

"Me, James, and Remus," Sirius told her, carefully not thinking about that fourth other person who may have been involved in making the Marauder's Map. It spread a small way beyond the boundaries of the school and hopefully would give them the needed advantage over Barty Crouch Junior if and when he turned up. Dumbledore hadn't said exactly how he knew Crouch was coming here, nor even how he knew about the man's existence, but whatever he told Scrimgeour was enough to convince the man to send out a few of his Aurors.

"You've held onto it all this time?" Tonks asked with a hint of reproach. "You could have given it to me when I was in Hogwarts!"

He shot her a grin. "Got in enough trouble without this, didn't you?"

"Besides the point."

He chuckled. "I couldn't have. It got confiscated in our last few weeks, but Gareth Martin found it and gave me it this morning, reckoned it'd help us."

When Sirius asked how Gareth found it when he handed it over, wondering how the hell he even knew what it was, Gareth had just grinned and said, "If I told you that, I wouldn't be worthy of having it, would I? Oh, and you might be getting a visit from a couple of... lets say _fans_... at some point."

He hadn't been kidding. At lunch, Fred and George Weasley turned up at Sirius' office, aware of his nickname and so full of hero worship they almost threw themselves to the floor in praise. It'd been a surprisingly fun lunch, detailing old pranks while the twins gushed their praises and told him about their own. He was intrigued when they mentioned their hopes to open a joke shop and he told them to come by another day when he had more time to listen to their ideas; the Black Prison had barely dented his massive fortune and he liked the idea of investing in the next generation of pranksters. He also promised to return the Marauder's Map to them when he was done with it, but they waved it off and, when he told them who Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail were, told him to pass it on to Harry.

"We know it by heart anyway," Fred told him. "If Harry's birth dad helped make it, he deserves to inherit it."

And Sirius thought, knowing he shouldn't but unable to keep from thinking it anyway, that Harry's birth dad _didn't_ make it. Still, James had been Harry's dad in one way and Sirius had given James enough grief over the matter while he was alive; he couldn't keep doing it when the man was dead. Maybe he would pass the map onto Harry, but he'd let the kid figure out how to work it himself. That would show if he was really James' son where it mattered.

He just hoped Gareth wouldn't take it off the kid, though he seemed pretty lax when it came to (mostly) harmless rule-breaking. Sirius still didn't trust Gareth, especially after noticing the dark looks Dumbledore kept shooting him all day. If Dumbledore had issue with the man then there was definitely something wrong with him.

Sirius had hoped that his time at Hogwarts would provide the added bonus of figuring out what Gareth was hiding (and he was hiding something, Sirius was sure of it and one day he _was_ going to find out) but all he discovered was that Gareth took a questionable amount of nights off for a Head of House. He hadn't been able to figure out where Gareth went on these nights off, but he knew for a fact that they weren't all to go see Lupin.

He scowled, hand clenching on his wand. He had no proof either way, but he wouldn't put it past Gareth to be seeing someone else. He'd mentioned this to Lupin, who'd listened politely, promised to question Gareth about it, and later insisted that Gareth was not cheating on him. When Sirius tried to push the point, Lupin got angry with him and told him to stow his jealousy and stop interfering.

Interfering! All Sirius wanted to do was make sure his friend didn't get hurt, and even if he was jealous—which he wasn't; it'd been over a decade since he and Lupin were together, Sirius had moved on and there was a long line of women who'd be willing to back up that statement—it didn't affect the fact that he was trying to protect Lupin. Sirius did, after all, have quite a huge mistake to make up for and it wasn't like he could give back the years of life he'd stolen from Lupin; looking out for him now was the best he could do.

He sighed, earning a glance from Tonks that he ignored. In truth, he wasn't even sure where he stood with Lupin these days. Lupin had accepted help early on—clothes, the purchase of a (cheap) flat, advice on how the world had changed in twelve years—and sometimes he seemed happy to have Sirius around, chatting together like they used to until it felt like what had happened was gone and forgotten, but then sometimes he would grew inexplicably terse and irritated with him or make some subtle (or even not so subtle) comment about Sirius' attack, and everything would change. Then there were the moments when Lupin would stiffen or flinch if Sirius got angry, even if it wasn't directed at Lupin. Like Lupin was afraid of him, afraid that Sirius was going to attack him again.

Sirius _hated_ that.

And now he was even starting to pay Sirius back for the clothes and the flat, as if he couldn't stand to be in any way indebted to Sirius. He'd always had issues with borrowing money, but something about his expression and tone whenever he gave Sirius some of what he owed made Sirius feel like this wasn't just a poor man's pride at work. It was like he just didn't want the connection to Sirius that owing a debt created. Sirius tried to refuse the money, but Lupin insisted to the point where Sirius gave in. He donated every penny to Saint Mungo's.

It was pennies, too. Lupin couldn't get a job in the wizarding world—his lycanthropy was common knowledge; the papers had never failed to mention it after Lily and James' deaths, the _Prophet_ especially always printing about what 'the werewolf Lupin' had done—but he'd written a book and sent it to a Muggle publisher and it was selling surprisingly well. Sirius asked about it when Lupin first mentioned he was writing it, but all Lupin had said was that it was a fantasy novel.

Sirius wasn't unfamiliar with Muggle fantasy, having curiously read a few to see what they thought magic was, but found it to be as accurate to wizarding life as most books in the Muggle Fantasy genre of Flourish and Blotts, which told fantastic and wildly inaccurate tales of brave Muggles navigating a world entirely without magic. It was a small niche of wizarding fiction, but it had its fans, although Sirius wasn't one of them.

Intrigued by what Lupin wrote, Sirius had gone to a Muggle book store and bought a copy. Lupin had never offered to let him read any of what he wrote, but he'd mentioned the title and his pen name one day. At the time, Sirius hadn't thought much about what _A Touch of Silver_ by Ian Wolfe might be about (though he had rolled his eyes at the pen name), but a trickle of suspicion hit him when he saw the cover, which had an artist's rendition of a pre-teen boy, the shadow of a wolf, and a looming building in the background. Even so, he still didn't dare believe it until he actually started reading.

It was about a young werewolf attending a magical boarding school.

It wasn't Hogwarts, but the inspiration was obvious to anyone who'd attended. There were five houses instead of four, and they were sequestered by gender instead of personality traits (three for boys, two for girls). There was a headmistress, the students took Muggle subjects alongside magical ones, and the magic of the universe was notably different (they didn't even use _wands_ ), but the school was still set in a castle hidden away from the non-magical community and although the lead character wasn't the only werewolf at the school, he was still a minority and subject to bullying from his human peers. Of course, he did manage to make four close friends—one from each of the other four houses, which struck Sirius as a touch far-fetched and a bit too neat—and together they battled prejudice, homework, and curfew whilst also trying to unravel the mystery of missing maids. (There were, Sirius gathered, nothing like house elves in this fictional world.) It was a good book and Sirius was just surprised Lupin wrote it; his friend had never been much of a writer before, but evidently decade-long comas changed a person.

"Sirius! Look!"

Tonks' hissed words and a sharp elbow in the ribs knocked him out of his thoughts. In the distance he heard cheers coming from the direction of the lake, and he briefly mused that if he was so easily distracted he might not even be fit to return to the Aurors, then focused on what Tonks was pointing at.

At the edge of the map, the name Bartimeus Crouch was edging steadily along a tunnel. Sirius swore.

"Where is that?" Tonks asked, frowning. "That looks as if it leads up to the third floor."

"Yeah, tunnel from Honeydukes cellar. He must have broken into the shop." He gave a short, sharp whistle and a moment later Kinsgley joined them. Sirius showed him the map and explained the tunnel, and Kingsley sent a Patronus message to Dawlish and Markham, who were patrolling the grounds, to go down to the village to cover Honeydukes in case Crouch went back, then the three headed up into the castle.

In the end, it was one of the easiest arrests they'd ever made. Crouch came creeping out from the secret tunnel, evidently not expecting to get ambushed by two Aurors and a dog who knew where he was despite the invisibility cloak he wore. They had him disarmed and handcuffed within twenty seconds of his leaving the tunnel. After that, Kingsley and Tonks just had to transport him back to the Ministry.

* * *

The award presentation ceremony was held in the Great Hall. The marks given to Fleur and Krum in the final task brought them to an equal score and while it was clear neither of them were happy about coming second, Fleur managed to hide her disappointment better than Krum, who scowled even worse than normal and kept shooting Harry murderous looks.

Harry barely noticed. He kept grinning so hard he thought his face would split as Cornelius Fudge awarded him the gleaming Triwizard Cup and the thousand galleon prize money. His good mood wasn't even touched when, just as Fudge was congratulating him, the doors of the Great Hall opened and Sirius Black sidled in, interrupting to mutter a few words in Fudge's ear. The Minister shook Harry's hand once more, smiled for the _Daily Prophet_ photographer, and hurried off.

Harry wondered about it, but soon forgot. The Slytherins were talking about a celebration party in the common room and Harry assured them he'd join them later. He had to stay for more photographs and he even deigned to give Rita Skeeter a few words, although she seemed more interested in running after Fudge and Sirius, and then he spent some time with his parents, while Jennifer returned home.

He and Tori showed them around the castle and although both of them had snuck around the school after curfew before, it felt strange to go through the empty halls with permission. Gareth was with them, following at a polite distance so as to give the group a semblance of privacy; Dumbledore insisted Gabriel and Lorna be accompanied by a staff member at all times while they were in the school.

"Does he think Gareth could stop you if you suddenly decided to go on a rampage?" Tori asked, faintly amused.

"I doubt it," Lorna admitted, also smiling, "but it's the appearance of things."

They were on the sixth floor when someone came hurtling around a corridor and crashed into Lorna. She staggered back a step, but they stumbled and fell on their backside.

"Sorry!" they gasped, already scrambling to their feet with the clear intention of running off again, but then Gareth came forwards and they stopped.

"Mr Diggory—"

"Sir, Alex Stone just jumped off the Astronomy Tower!" Diggory interrupted.

"Third year, Hufflepuff," Tori muttered to Harry, who was trying to remember if he knew who Alex Stone was.

"Thank you for informing me, Mr Diggory," Gareth said, looking supremely unconcerned that a student had just leapt from the tallest tower. "Please return to Hufflepuff."

"But sir—"

"Mr Stone will be fine," Gareth told him. "There are charms around the school to protect anyone who jumps or falls from the towers or windows. He'll be arriving in the Hospital Wing soon. I will inform Professors Sprout and Dumbledore. Return to your dormitory."

"Yes, sir."

Diggory set off. Gareth sent two Patronus messages and then turned to the Valentines. "I think it would be a good time to return home, m'lord. Even attempted suicides cause something of a stir in the castle."

Harry and Tori exchanged a surprised glance at his use of 'm'lord', but Gabriel made no remark on it.

"Of course. You'll want to walk us out, I—"

He and Lorna whirled, faces set in the expression they always got when listening to something humans couldn't hear.

"That Diggory boy just fell down some stairs," Lorna said. "I smell blood."

Without a word, Gareth set off in the direction Diggory had gone, the rest of them following. They found Diggory sprawled at the bottom of a staircase leading to the floor below, unmoving, a puddle of blood spreading steadily out from his head, eyes open. That sightless stare told Harry, even before Gareth descended to check the fallen boy, that he was dead.

* * *

When Dumbledore came to see Gareth, in the morning after Mr and Mrs Diggory had come to collect their son, he asked in a weary voice, "Is it always him?"

Gareth nodded and Dumbledore sighed.

"You're right. It is a pointless, inexplicable waste."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Black drapes hung behind the staff table at the leaving feast that year, instead of the usual banners of the house that won the house cup, a mark of respect to Cedric Diggory. As Dumbledore made a brief speech about his death and asked them all to stand and raise their glasses in his memory, Harry looked over at the Hufflepuff table and saw Alex Stone crying silently. He'd been in the Hospital Wing for the past week and word had it he believed Cedric's death was his fault, that Cedric had died because Alex hadn't.

There were various rumours as to why he'd attempted to kill himself, but most predominant was bullying, particularly from a fifth year Hufflepuff who, Harry noticed, was being shunned by the rest of the house. He also realised that the fifth year and Alex were the same two boys he and Theo had interrupted in making out behind the bushes at the Yule Ball, and he remembered the look of relief on Alex's face when Harry and Theo had interrupted and wondered if it had had anything to do with the attempted suicide.

The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were still with them at that point. The next day, as the Hogwarts students waited for the coaches that would take them down to Hogsmeade Station, the foreign students went among them, saying goodbye to new friends. To Harry's surprise, Fleur sought him out to congratulate him once more on winning the Tournament and kissed his cheeks goodbye. Perhaps not wanting to be shown up, Krum did the same, through without the kisses, and with minimal resentment, although it was clear he was still displeased about what had happened in the third task.

The trip home was warm and bright, and punctuated with the news that they would once again be remaining in England for the holiday. As long as the war continued, Gabriel and Lorna had to remain in England to help fight it, and there didn't seem to be an end in sight. Harry and Tori weren't pleased with this. Once had been fine, but they associated summer with trips away and they missed visiting France, Greece, and Italy. When no amount of begging, complaining, and sulking changed Gabriel and Lorna's minds, Tori demanded another visit from their friends. They agreed readily enough, until Harry said he was inviting Anita as well as Theo this time.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Lorna asked him bluntly at dinner, to which Harry emphatically answered, "No."

"Do you want her to be?" Gabriel asked.

" _No_. I'm not even interested in girls like that, I swear. Anyway, she's a lesbian."

That made his parents pause. They glanced briefly at Tori, then Lorna asked Harry, "Is Theo your boyfriend?"

Why did parents have to be so _nosy_?

"No. I'm not interested in boys like that either. I'm not interested in _anyone_ like that."

"Alright," Gabriel said, "but we will of course need to meet Anita's mother, first."

Harry nodded and mentioned that he'd already said as much to Anita so his parents could write to her mother that night, but after the meal he followed Tori up to her room and asked, "Why did Mum and Dad look at you when I said Anita's a lesbian?"

Tori rolled her eyes as she took her violin case from the cupboard and put it on the desk. "Probably because I told them I was maybe bisexual so now they probably think I want to shag every girl _and_ boy I see."

Her questioning her sexuality was news to Harry, but he was sure his parents didn't think that of her. "Maybe?"

"Yeah. It's complicated."

"How?"

"Because I don't want to shag girls."

"... but?" he prompted, sensing there was more to it.

"But..." she said slowly, now taking out her folder of sheet music and flicking through it, "I maybe want to... I don't know. Cuddle them and date them, but only with the lovey-dovey romantic stuff and none of the intense make out sessions."

"Oh," Harry said. He'd thought they went hand in hand, or that one led to the other; it never occurred to him that you could have them separately. "Well, if that's how you feel, that's okay. Isn't it? Is this why you broke up with Tyler again?"

"No, we just decided it wouldn't last over the summer. But what am I? I'm not bisexual because I'm not sexually attracted to girls, but I'm not completely straight either."

"Do you need a word for it?" He didn't feel the need to put a name to whatever he was, except 'not interested'.

"Yes," she said firmly picking a piece to play and setting it on the stand in one corner of the room. "I like words. I like having a name for what I am. There's a word for what you are—asexual—so why shouldn't there be one for me?"

"So make one up," he suggested.

She hummed, taking the violin from its case. "Biromantic? 'Cause I'm romantically interested in girls but not sexually interested."

He turned it over in his mind. "It fits. Like biromantic but heterosexual?"

She beamed. "Yes! That's perfect!"

She looked so pleased that he couldn't help grinning back, and left her to her music practice.

Anita's mother refused to even come visit herself, let alone let Anita stay for a week, so Harry got a ranting letter from Anita complaining about overly judgemental and stupid parents. Mrs Darzi's issue was more to do with Harry than vampires—she didn't think teenagers should spend nights in the same house as teenagers of the opposite sex, and Anita wasn't about to out herself to her homophobic mother just to be able to visit Harry.

So Harry expected only Theo to turn up along with Lisa and Padma on the twenty-first of July, but instead of the Knight Bus, an owl arrived that morning with a letter for him. It was short and curt, beginning without even a token greeting.

 _At my father's behest, I am breaking off all communication with you and will not be coming to your home today, or ever again. You are a bad influence and I have seen the error of my ways. Do not attempt to contact me in future._

 _Theodore_

He read it with a growing frown then immediately went to Gabriel's study, placing the letter down on the desk before him.

"I think something's wrong with Theo. That's his handwriting, but he wouldn't do this and he never uses his full name and he doesn't use words like 'behest'."

Gabriel took the letter and read it over, a frown marring his own face.

"I think his dad abuses him," Harry added quietly.

Gabriel sighed. "I did get the impression he was an unpleasant man when I met him," he admitted. "I will send someone to go and investigate."

"Today?"

"Immediately."

* * *

Gareth didn't bother knocking on the door of the Nott home. He knew Frederick Nott, knew exactly how vile he could be to his wife and children, and he blamed himself a little for whatever had happened to Theo in the past few days or weeks. Threats, subtle or otherwise, worked for most of the other handful of parents that Gareth knew to be abusive or neglectful who he'd visited last summer, but Frederick Nott was a smug, self-confident git with high connections in the Ministry that he believed would protect him from any accusations of child abuse.

The trouble was, he wasn't completely wrong and he wouldn't ever see the error of his ways, so Gareth had gone a little further and used some magic to force Frederick into leaving his son alone the previous summer. Only a bit, because too much tended to travel into dark magic territory and that was a slippery slope he was trying to avoid, but that had clearly been an error on Gareth's part. He hadn't expected it to wear off, and he'd be visiting all the others parents after he was done here to make sure they didn't forget he was looking out for their kids.

So he forced his way into the house, disarmed, stunned, and bound Frederick with just a flick of his hand, and hurried upstairs. Theo's bedroom was easy to find—it was the only one with a padlock on the outside. It sprung open at a touch of his finger and he entered the room. Theo was curled on his bed, laying on his side, stripped to the waist with his back to Gareth. It was a mess of lash marks, old scars just visible beneath the fresh wounds. They were no more than twelve hours old, at Gareth's estimate.

"Don't move, Theo," Gareth said gently when Theo started to sit up. He went over, leaning over to inspect Theo's front. There were a few more lashes across his chest, two darkening bruises on his face, and his left eye was swollen shut.

"What are you doing here, sir?" There was obvious bitterness in his voice, shame at being discovered like this.

"Helping you. Belt or Whipping Hex?"

"Whipping Hex," Theo muttered, not meeting Gareth's gaze. "Said it hurts more."

Gareth dug in his pockets. "Depends who's wielding it."

"Speaking from experience, sir?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes." He removed a vial and a handkerchief from his pocket. "This is a healing potion. Do you mind lying on your front while I apply it?"

Theo nodded and rolled over.

"This will sting," Gareth warned, soaking the handkerchief before wiping it carefully over the fresh wounds. Theo tensed and sucked in a sharp breath, but otherwise withstood the sting of the healing potion without complaint. It cleaned the wounds and sealed them up, making them look a few days old.

"Why'd you come here, sir? Where's my father?"

"Downstairs, tied up. The letter you sent to Harry made him suspicious. He showed his father, who asked me to look in on you."

"Why would he do that?"

"I'm a friend of the family. Sit up now. Wipe the rest and drink this."

He handed over the kerchief for Theo to wipe at the few lashes across his front while he dug out a pain reliever, which the boy drank down gratefully, instantly relaxing as the potion did its work. Gareth handed over a jar of bruise paste that Theo dabbed onto his face then left him to dress fully while he went back downstairs. Frederick was still where Gareth left him, tied up at the foot of the sofa in the living room, and Gareth dropped into an armchair, watching him until Theo came down. The bruises on his face were already fading to yellow.

"What happens now, sir?"

"Now it occurs to me that I should perhaps have bought some sort of official representative with me. I suppose we could call one now."

"Or...?"

Gareth glanced at him. Theo was staring at his father was open hatred, but at Gareth's silence he looked over.

"You came prepared. You knew I'd be injured. You're the one that came to see him last summer, as well, weren't you?"

"Was I?"

Theo's lips twitched up slightly, but all he said was, "You didn't seem too keen on calling the authorities."

"No, I suppose not," Gareth admitted. "Issues with authority. What do you want to do?"

Theo shrugged, but the hateful look he gave the unconscious man betrayed his true feelings even as he answered, "There'll be questions if... something happened to him."

"You don't want to call the authorities either?"

"I'd have to testify, wouldn't I? Stand up in a court and get questioned about everything."

"You don't want to do that?"

Theo gave a half-shrug. "I don't want _my_ life picked apart," he said quietly.

"Theo, for fear of sounding condescending, do you understand that everything he did wasn't your fault?"

"You're right, that was condescending."

"That's not an answer."

"Of course I know it," Theo snapped, but didn't meet his gaze. "It's not like I _asked_ him to beat me."

"No, but I know his type. He'd have blamed you, said you brought it on yourself, that you made him do it." He paused and Theo's silence was all the confirmation he needed. "He lied, Theo. You are not to blame for any of it. He was a cruel man and nothing you did could change that."

"What's going to happen to me now, sir?" Theo asked by way of response. "Where do I go?"

Gareth let it drop for now, but made a note to get some information leaflets about St Mungo's outpatient psychiatric department and, when school started, make sure a fresh poster was put up on the Slytherin noticeboard about the counsellor that came into the school once a week for students to talk to. People like Theo responded better to subtle suggestions than outright ideas.

"What's your sister like these days?"

"Sir?"

"She drink?"

"Lots of people drink," Theo answered diplomatically.

"Lots of people drink in excess," Gareth replied. "I think your sister is one of them. You can't live alone, Theo, but I can't just hand you from one unfit guardian to another, even if it's a different kind of unfit, you understand." He could almost see Theo biting back the words 'I'm fifteen, I'm not a child anymore'. "You don't have any other family, correct?"

"I have a second cousin in Essex."

"Fancy living with them?"

"Not really. They're a squib."

"Hmm." He stared at Frederick. "You believe in tit for tat, Theo?"

"Sir?"

"Give and take. Nothing for free. That sort of thing."

"Yes."

"So you're probably trying to figure out how to balance out my aid today."

Theo shuffled his feet. "Yes."

"You'll give me your silence. I saw your bag is still packed for a visit to the Valentines; I'll take you there, you'll spend the week, as planned, and you'll probably get a letter or a visit from the Ministry before the week's up. I promise you'll never have to live with your father again, but don't ask too many questions about the whys and hows and we'll be square."

"Are you going to kill him?"

Gareth stood up. "What did I just say about questions?"

"Not to ask too many, sir. That's why I'm only asking one," he answered innocently. "I'll keep my silence."

Gareth snorted. "Go get your bag, Theo."

* * *

On the second night of his stay, Theo slipped from the bedroom he was sleeping in alone and across the hall to Harry's, waving a bag of weed at him questioningly.

"My parents will flip if they catch me," Harry said.

"Is that a no?"

Harry glanced at the door, then grinned, grabbed his wand, and put up a charm to keep the room sound- and scent-proofed. They didn't talk as Theo rolled the joint and lit it, letting themselves relax with the first hit. They'd both been tense with each other for the past day and a half since Theo arrived at Lynott Manor. Theo was too conscious of the fact that Harry now knew for a fact that life at home was bad for him, despite his efforts over the years to act like everything was fine; and Harry had questions he wanted answering, but didn't know how to ask them or whether he'd be rebuffed for doing so.

The weed put them both at ease. They kept to safe topics at first—school and their classmates, Harry's holiday and home, Theo wondering at Harry's fascination with butterflies when he conjured a swarm ("I like them, they're pretty")—but eventually, as they moved onto a second joint, Harry asked, "Y'know that letter your dad made you send me—what did it mean when you called me a bad influence?"

Theo didn't look up, lighting the joint and inhaling deeply before handing it over. He lay down on his front—his injuries were still tender—and closed his eyes, cheek pressed into Harry's soft carpet.

"Goyle's dad told him about the rumour that we're going out. He thought you're trying to turn me queer."

"That's not fair," Harry grumbled, taking a drag of his own then laying down on his back beside Theo. "Maybe you're turning _me_ queer."

Theo opened one eye. "Am I?"

"No. I'm not queer, unless queer also means you don't fancy people."

"Not sure," Theo admitted, closing the eye again. "There's a word for it, though. I looked. Asexual."

"I know, Tori told me. I don't really care what it's called."

Theo waved his hand until Harry gave him the joint. "Me neither. I just like knowing these things."

"You like knowing everything."

"Yeah."

They fell into a companionable silence, but it was brief. Even with his eyes closed again, Theo could feel Harry's gaze on him.

"What did he do to you?"

The question was quiet, hesitant, almost apologetic. Theo considered not answering, but weed always made him talkative and he knew that Harry deserved to know.

"He beat me. Nothing new there, except it was worse than usual. He locked me in my bedroom, too."

Harry took the joint from him and his other hand found Theo's, intertwining their fingers. "I'm sorry, Theo."

"Why? It's not your fault."

"He did it because of that rumour about us. It's kind of—"

"No, it's not," Theo interrupted. "You didn't start that rumour. My father's just a bastard."

"Why didn't you ever run away?"

"I did, before third year. He found me and dragged me back. It's the only time I ever wished I was Muggleborn; their parents can't do tracking spells if they run away from home."

Harry said nothing to that, just squeezed his hand. Theo squeezed back.

"It doesn't matter. I'm never going back there."

"Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know. My sister's maybe."

"Didn't you say she's an alcoholic?"

"Better that than my dad."

"What's going to happen to him? Is he getting arrested for attacking you?"

"I don't know," Theo sighed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"'kay," Harry murmured. He let go of Theo's hand and rolled onto his side, pressing against the other boy and slinging an arm over his back. Theo stiffened then hoped Harry didn't notice, but he drew his arm away again. "Sorry. Did I hit an injury?"

Theo attempted a nonchalant shrug, keeping his eyes shut. "It's fine. It's not that bad."

"Can I see?"

His eyes flew open then. Harry's face was only inches from his own, but rather than pity there was just dopey curiosity. "What for?"

"I dunno. You don't have to. I'll show you mine if you like."

"I see yours every time I see you," Theo pointed out.

"Not the one's on my back. Or my legs."

Theo blinked, surprised. He knew Harry had to have scarred legs, from the burning he suffered in their first year, although he'd never seen them, but he didn't know about his back. "I didn't know you had any on your back. What...?"

"The werewolf. I don't like people seeing them."

Obviously. Theo knew himself the effort it took to hide his scars from their roommates for four years, changing quickly while the dorm was empty, or in the bathroom hid behind a shower curtain or toilet door. He'd always been so focused on himself that he'd never noticed Harry doing it, too. He was curious now, his inherent thirst for knowledge wanting to see the marks on Harry's back, even if it meant showing his own.

"Alright," he agreed, sitting up and putting his back to Harry, but still hesitantly lifting his over-large sleep shirt up to his shoulders. He heard Harry sit up as well, looking over the mess of old and new scars littering his skin. He tensed again when fingers brushed lightly over them, but it didn't hurt and he gradually relaxed as Harry's fingers trailed softly over the pink and white tissue, skirting the new wounds that was still healing.

"This is why you never come swimming, isn't it?" He nodded. Harry's hand fell away and he let his shirt drop back down. "I can put a charm on them for you if you want."

He shrugged, turning to face Harry. "I don't care much for swimming anyway. Your turn."

Harry turned, pulling his shirt all the way off. While Theo's scars were a mess of smaller marks, a mosaic made from each lash of his father's Whipping Hex, Harry's were eight huge gouges, four running from his right shoulder to his left hip, the other four almost straight across the middle of his back from his left side to just past his spine.

"Why do you hide these but not the one's on your face?" he asked, trailing his fingers along the longest four. Harry didn't tense, just shivered slightly at the feather light touch.

"Mum and Dad say I'm not allowed to hide the ones on my face. They didn't want me to get used to not seeing them and grow to hate my own face. It's different with my back, I guess."

Theo hummed an agreement, though he didn't really understand. He hated his own scars, but maybe it was just that he hated how they got there. Getting mauled by a werewolf was different than getting the shit beat out of you by your own father.

A gentle knock at the door made him jerk his hand down. Harry looked around, wide-eyed.

"Uh... who is it?"

"Me and Lisa," Tori's voice said. Padma hadn't come this year; the Patils were in India for the summer visiting a dying grandmother. "Can we come in?"

Harry relaxed. "Yeah."

The door handle rattled, but he'd locked it and had to dig his wand out from where it'd rolled under the bed before he could let them in. The girls stopped just inside the door, Lisa sniffing curiously and Tori fixing her gaze on the joint Harry still held.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"You're smoking!"

"No, I'm not. It's weed, not cigarettes."

Lisa snorted and Theo rolled his eyes.

"You're high as a kite, aren't you?" Tori said, frowning. "Mum and Dad'll flip if they find out."

"So close the door before they do," Theo said. "What did you want, anyway?"

"We were going to invite you to come have a late swim," Lisa answered, nudging the door shut, "but it looks like you guys found something more fun to do. You're going to share, right?"

"In exchange for what?" Theo asked.

"Not telling Lord and Lady Valentine you're smoking pot."

Theo sighed and took the joint from Harry, holding it out. Lisa skipped over and took it from him, sitting down as she took a drag. Tori watched, still frowning.

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Tori," Theo said.

"I'd like to keep my brain cells, thanks."

"Pot doesn't kill brain cells."

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me who's been smoking it for years and still has the fifth highest marks in our year."

"Yeah, well," Tori grumbled. "I'm not interested. I've got the third highest marks in the year and I want to keep it that way."

"You can get us snacks then," Theo suggested and, at her raised eyebrows, added, "Please."

"Oooh," Harry said, perking up. "Yes, pretty please, Tori. We forgot food. See if we have cookies."

She sighed but agreed and vanished. Lisa passed the joint back to Theo then looked curiously at Harry, who'd caught a butterfly on his finger and was watching it intently.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Harry looked down as if surprised at this then dislodged the butterfly and scrambled around for his shirt, pulling it on again. Lisa noticed his back as he did, her eyes widening at the sight of the scars, but she said nothing. When she caught Theo's eye, he mouthed 'werewolf' and she gave a brief nod. Harry missed it all.

Clearing her throat and clearly keen to focus on something else, Lisa said, "Either of you ever shotgunned?"

Theo shook his head. Harry asked, "What's that?"

Theo paused with the joint half raised to his mouth and shot Lisa a questioning glance. She looked him over, shrugged, grinned, and nodded. As Theo took a drag of the joint, she shifted closer and said to Harry, "This is shotgunning."

Theo put a hand to the back of her head as she leant into him, steadying her, and blew the smoke into her open mouth as she inhaled. She closed her mouth on it and stole a quick kiss from him before pulling away. Theo glanced at Harry, who was watching them open mouthed. He snapped it shut at their look.

"I want to try."

"With who?" Lisa asked.

"Theo," Harry said as if that should be obvious. Theo handed him the joint and pretended not to notice the somewhat voyeuristic look on Lisa's face as she watched them lean together and exchange smoke. Theo started to pull away after, but Harry seemed to think the kiss was part of it and pressed his mouth to Theo's, firmer and for longer than Lisa had.

"Jesus Christ, I leave for two minutes and this is what I come back to?"

Theo and Harry broke apart, Harry flushing, Theo merely stealing the joint back to take one last drag before passing it to Lisa to finish off. Tori shut the door with her foot and came over, sitting down and dumping a load of snacks on the floor, along with a bottle of wine.

"We were just shotgunning," Theo said whilst Harry snatched up a pack of cookies and eagerly tore into them.

"Is that some new word for kissing? 'Cause that's what it looked like to me."

"Shotgunning is blowing the smoke from one person to another," Lisa explained. "Kissing is optional, but I think Harry liked it."

"I like kissing," Harry agreed around a mouthful of cookie. "So does Theo."

"Kindly not in front of me," Tori said. "You complained about me doing it. Open this for me."

Harry mumbled an agreement and touched his wand to the wine bottle to open it for her. She took a swig then passed it to Lisa, who was making 'gimme' gestures with her hand.

"Thought you didn't want to destroy your brain cells," Theo said to Tori, taking a large Dairy Milk from the pile of snacks.

"It's just a bit of wine, and I don't want to be left out of the fun. I'm not a stick in the mud."

* * *

Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up on the floor with Theo using his stomach as a pillow and his toes prodding Lisa in the nose. He felt an unusual surge of affection for Theo; he was, Harry thought, kind of cute while he slept, even if it was with his mouth open and drooling on Harry's stomach.

Tori had commandeered his bed, but this came secondary to the fact that the next thing he noticed was both his parents standing just inside the door of his bedroom. He nudged Theo, who woke up in an instant, and accidentally kicked Lisa in the face, which woke her up but left her grumbling. Tori pulled the covers over her head. Hyper aware of the fact that his bedroom still stank of weed and that the nearly empty wine bottle was on the floor by the bed, Harry sat up and tried to subtly slide his tobacco tin behind Lego Hogwarts, in which he noticed Samantha was sleeping, though he wasn't sure when she'd got out of her terrarium.

"Morning, Mum, Dad."

Lorna had a hand on her hip and Gabriel's arms were folded over his chest. They were both frowning.

"We have three questions for you," Gabriel said. "Your answers to those will affect our reaction to this... scenario. Question one: did any of you have sex?"

"DAD!" Tori cried, jerking the covers down and sitting up to glare at him. He glared back.

"I will not be impressed if you end up pregnant because of poor decisions fuelled by drink and drugs, especially not while you're under MY roof. I expect Mr and Mrs Turpin wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh my god," she groaned, flopping back down and pulling a pillow over her head. "As if Harry or I want have sex in front of each other!"

Gabriel conceded her point with a nod. "Did you go elsewhere to do it?"

"None of us had sex," Harry assured them, face bright red and eyes unable to meet anyone else's. Next to him, Theo was tense, staring at the carpet.

"Glad to hear it. Question two: where did you get the drugs?"

There was a terse silence. Harry didn't look at Theo, who didn't shift his eyes from the carpet.

"Let me rephrase that for you," Lorna said. "Did you get drugs from any of the nest vampires?"

"No," Harry answered honestly, and hoped they wouldn't ask where they did get it. He wasn't bad at dodging his parents questions with half-truths, but his ignorance of where Theo did get the weed meant he wouldn't be able to avoid outright lying and the vampires were usually pretty good at realising when he did that.

Fortunately, Gabriel's next questions was, "Question three: where did you get that wine?"

"I stole it from the kitchen," Tori admitted.

Gabriel sighed. "Theo, Lisa, please excuse us, we need to have a word with Harry and Tori. Also, Theo, your sister and someone from the Ministry's Department of Family and Child Services is here to see you. Edward will escort you down when you're dressed."

The two guests were quick to leave, Theo looking concerned. Harry and Tori eyed their parents warily as Lorna took a seat at Harry's desk and Gabriel stood by her.

"Is this the first time you've taken drugs?" Lorna asked them.

Harry hesitated to answer. Tori didn't. "I didn't smoke any," she said. Her tone was slightly defensive, but it wasn't the tone of trying to foist the blame onto Harry. Nevertheless, Harry felt that the words alone made him seem like a recalcitrant druggie and she the goody two shoes.

" _I_ didn't have any of the wine," he said.

"But you've smoked pot before," Lorna said.

It wasn't a question. "Yes," he muttered. "But only once."

"You will not again," Gabriel said, his tone not to be argued with. "We understand that, as teenagers, you want to experiment with these things, and you have done so. Leave it at that."

Harry wondered if it was being a teenager that made him instantly want to smoke some more, just to be rebellious. Gabriel didn't have to sound so condescending about it all. Why couldn't they just yell at him for it?

Lorna put a hand over the one of Gabriel's that was on her shoulder. "We just want to look out for you both. You've got bright futures ahead of you; we would hate to see it ruined by something stupid like this. Especially you, Harry," she said, focusing on him. He avoided her gaze. There was nothing like the phrase 'bright futures ahead' to remind him that his future was in the pits of hell and drawing ever closer. "You've had problems with addiction before—not your fault, we know," she said quickly when he opened his mouth angrily, "but regardless these things can have an effect. So please, Harry, leave the drugs alone, even something as seemingly harmless as marijuana."

"Yes, Mum."

She nodded and her and Gabriel's attention turned to Tori. "As for the drink—"

"It's no worse than Harry smoking pot!" she cried.

"Harry didn't steal it," Gabriel retorted, and Tori glanced away, chided. "We accept that you're both old enough to handle some alcohol, but we'll not have you stealing it, even from our own kitchens. We will provide a reasonable amount for you to share with your friends, if that's what you want, but we're not having you helping yourself and drinking to excess."

"It was one bottle of wine," Tori said defensively, "and we didn't even finish it."

"For which we're glad, but next time you might not stop at that."

Tori opened her mouth, changed her mind, and snapped it shut without saying something.

"I am being reasonable, Tori," Gabriel said, voice softening slightly. "You may drink, but you'll accept that your mother and I have the right to restrict how much. We will not be unfair in the matter."

Tori grumbled under her breath a bit, but eventually sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I guess."

"Thank you. You may go back to your own room now."

Harry watched her go then looked back to his parents. "Am I in trouble for something else?"

In answer, Gabriel went over to Lego Hogwarts, crouched, and picked up the tobacco tin. He opened it, tipped out the contents onto his hand, then held out the tin, but didn't let go when Harry reached for it.

"This is a bad habit, Harry. You know that."

"Yeah."

"So why do you do it?"

He shrugged. Gabriel sighed and let go of the tin. "Do you have any more weed stashed away somewhere?"

"No," he answered honestly. Gabriel scanned his face and Harry knew he was listening carefully to Harry's heart and scenting the air for a sudden outburst of sweat, searching for any sign of lying. If he realised that Harry had never been the one to get the drugs in the first place, he didn't say so.

Lorna came over to crouch before him. "We're not angry with you, Harry. We just don't want to see you ruined by a bad habit. If you choose to become a vampire, you can smoke all you like, but while you're human it will do you a great harm. We don't want that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

She smiled and kissed his forehead. "We love you, Harry. And if you need help with giving up smoking, you can ask us. We can get you nicotine patches or whatever you need."

He nodded and gave her a weak smile. She kissed him again and Gabriel ruffled his hair before they both left. When the door shut behind them, Harry lay down with a groan. No cigarettes! And damned if he was going to use nicotine patches or something. They were for pansies. Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't like he was addicted to them, anyway. It was just something he'd done because... well, because Theo did and Harry figured why the hell not? He would be fine going without.

Remembering Theo, he got up and dressed then hurried downstairs. The doors to the drawing room were shut, but when he pressed his ear to them, Gabriel caught him and pulled him away. The doors were too thick even for Harry's elevated hearing to make out anything without being up against them, but Harry knew Gabriel could probably hear every word perfectly clearly. It was typical; the rules he laid down never seemed to apply to Gabriel himself.

"Don't be rude. If Theo wants you to know what's happening, he'll tell you."

"Are they going to take him away? He's meant to stay for a whole week."

"I don't know. It's up to Theo and his sister."

Harry frowned at that. He didn't want Theo to leave early. "Do you know what happened to his father?"

"Only that he's been arrested for fraud, embezzlement, and tax evasion."

"Not for hurting Theo?"

"That's what I was told."

"That's not fair!"

"Life often isn't, I'm afraid," Gabriel told him then looked around when the drawing room door opened and a worn-looking middle-aged woman stepped out.

"Ah, Lord Valentine, could you please join us? And your wife, if she's available."

Gabriel nodded and sent Harry to fetch Lorna. He did so and hung about outside for half an hour until the doors opened again and everyone came out. The woman from before gave Harry a brief, polite smile as Edward escorted her to the door, but Harry focused on Theo. He looked a little concerned, but not upset or anything.

There was another woman with them and Harry had to assume this was Theo's sister. Harry knew she was in her mid-twenties, but she looked older, tired and bleary-eyed. Like Theo, she was thin and pale with light brown hair, but it hung stringy and dry past her shoulders, limp and uncared for, and there was a lingering scent of stale beer around her. She caught Harry's eye and gave a weak smile.

"Miss Nott," Gabriel said, "this is my son, Harry. Harry, Hayleigh Nott."

"Nice to meet you," Hayleigh said, shaking his hand when he held it out. She had a weak grasp and let go quickly, glancing at the Valentines and then Theo and clearing her throat. "I should get home. I have... things... to do. It's been nice to meet you, your lordship. Thank you for your aid."

Gabriel dropped his head in a slight bow. Hayleigh dipped a shaky curtsy to them then she and Theo walked across the hall to the front door. They exchanged a few words then Hayleigh left and Theo came back over. He stood straight and looked directly at Gabriel.

"Thank you, Lord and Lady Valentine, for your assistance."

"Anything for a friend of Harry's."

Harry looked between them, wondering what assistance his parents had given Theo but unsure if it was alright for him to ask. Fortunately, Theo turned his attention to Harry then and explained, "My father's been arrested for... screwing over the Ministry of Magic, basically, and I can't go home. I... don't really want to stay with my sister, so your parents said—" he glanced nervously at the Valentines then hopefully at Harry "—I can stay here for the rest of the summer. If... if you don't mind."

"Me?"

"We want to make sure you're comfortable with it," Lorna said, squeezing his shoulder.

Harry looked at Theo, who was watching him with cautious hope, and grinned. "I definitely don't mind."

* * *

Gareth was woken by a kiss, which was a pretty good way to start the day in his opinion. He kissed back without opening his eyes, humming appreciatively and squirming closer to the kisser, which made them laugh, which in turn made him whimper unhappily because it meant the kissing stopped.

"I'll take that to mean you're alright."

Opening his eyes, Gareth looked into Lupin's smiling face, disappointed to realise the other man was above the covers instead of under them. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's almost ten and you haven't got up yet."

"It's the summer; I'm allowed to sleep in."

"I know," Lupin said, still smiling, "but it's still unusual. I'm normally the one still in bed when you're up."

"Then get back in bed and we'll rectify things."

"I'm sort of in bed."

"No, you're _on_ the bed, there's a difference. Namely: it's harder for me to get my hands under your clothes."

"You have a one track mind, I swear," Lupin muttered, but kissed him again. Gareth kicked away the covers and tugged at the other man until he lay over Gareth, never once breaking the kiss, hands working their way under Lupin's shirt. Having slept naked, Gareth had no clothes in the way and he sighed happily as Lupin's fingers brushed against his skin, tilting his head back to let Lupin press kisses along his jawline and down his throat.

 _Tap tap tap._

Gareth sighed again, less happily this time, and turned his head to the window as Lupin did the same. An owl fluttered outside, persistently pecking at the glass with the attitude of a bird not willing to be ignored. Lupin left the bed to let it in and take the letter from it, and it flew off again straight afterwards.

"It's for you," Lupin said, glancing over it. "From Hogwarts."

Gareth blew a raspberry, earning a faintly amused look from Lupin as he returned to the bed and handed the letter over.

"I thought you liked your job."

"I love my job, but I also love my summer holiday when I shouldn't have to think about my job."

But he shifted up to lean against the headboard as he opened the letter, Lupin laying beside him and drawing swirls across his bare stomach with his fingers.

"Anything important?"

"Eh. Albus wants to see me."

"Now?"

"'At your earliest possible convenience', which means today but not necessarily right now."

"Oh good," Lupin said, hand moving lower and head dipping to kiss Gareth's chest.

"And you say I have a one track mind."

"You do," Lupin murmured against his skin. "You pulled me onto it when you made me fall in love with you."

Gareth carelessly tossed the letter aside, grinning. "I didn't make you do anything, but I have no regrets. And I love you, too."

* * *

Several hours later he turned up at Hogwarts, where the Bloody Baron informed him that Dumbledore was walking by the lake, and Gareth went to join him, humming cheerfully.

"You're in a good mood today," Dumbledore greeted, smiling warmly.

"The sun is shining and life is good."

"I'm glad to hear it. How's Remus?"

"Remus is wonderful."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I almost don't want to discuss what I have to with you."

"Theodore Nott?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I am concerned about his placement with the Valentines."

"Why?" Gareth asked, a little harshly.

Dumbledore ignored his tone. "Would he not be better with his sister?"

"Hayleigh Nott is an alcoholic and has been since before she graduated from here. She may be his official guardian with his father under arrest, but as far as caring for him goes, he's better off with the Valentines for the summer."

Dumbledore frowned unhappily. "I do recall several instances of Miss Nott being found with alcohol, and Severus did express concern about her. I believe he filed several complaints about Frederick with the Department of Family and Child Services, but nothing came of it. I wish we could have done more for her, and for Theodore."

Gareth snorted. "Of course not; the man bribed and blackmailed his way out of everything."

"He doesn't seem able to do so with the fraud charges laid against him right now, nor to regain custody of his son."

"Given that I hear he doesn't have enough money left to even pay his bail, it's no surprise he's out of bribe money as well."

Dumbledore glanced at him sidelong. "The discovery of his actions was very sudden. Herbert Duster from Revenue and Customs says they were led by an anonymous tip."

"How fortunate for them."

"What did you do, Gareth?"

Gareth didn't answer immediately. There was no point in a straight denial; Dumbledore had to know it would be a lie and Gareth respected him enough not to insult him like that, but he wasn't about to admit that he'd falsified evidence. Not that Frederick Nott _hadn't_ been swindling money, but he'd done a damn good job of covering up; all Gareth did was create enough documents to prove it.

Eventually he settled for answering, "I made sure one of my students didn't have to put up with an abusive father any longer."

"Why not report him for abuse? Why fraud and tax evasion?"

"Because he had the money and means to avoid abuse charges!" Gareth snapped, temper flaring. "Just like he avoided and hushed up the investigation into his wife's murder."

"Her death was ruled acc-"

"It was bullshit! Frederick killed his wife, I'm almost certain of it. I _know_ him, Dumbledore," he said, voice dropping to an angry growl, fists clenching at his sides. "Not just his sort but _him_. You know how I told you that some people change between my timelines, and some people don't? Well he doesn't, not ever. He rapes his wife, beats his children, and readily commits murder, and he can bribe, blackmail, and threaten his way out of everything better than Lucius."

They stopped walking, Gareth staring furiously across the water while Dumbledore watched him.

"I could make him suffer," Gareth said quietly. "I have the power to change people's minds to greater degrees than the Imperius or anything like it. I can slip into their thoughts and twist them however I like, and I'll admit that I've done it before. Many times I've done it for 'good' reasons, reasons like this—making the Wizengamot convict a man for crimes of which they have little evidence, making Voldemort believe raising cats is a better idea that committing genocide, making Severus raise Harry full time after the Potters die..."

He saw Dumbledore's hard expression and smiled faintly. "But yes, I can make good people do bad things as well. It's a slippery slope and my shoes don't have much grip. I'm capable of terrible things, Albus, so I like to avoid doing questionable actions for the sake of 'good', because I know where it leads. I can't make Frederick Nott pay for everything he's done without serious intervention on my part, and you said yourself that I shouldn't overreach myself. I'm the only one that can stop myself crossing too many lines, Albus; sometimes that means not crossing the early ones."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, turning away from him to look across the lake. "I understand," he said softly. "I know the lure of making excuses for one's actions, and the evil of one man cannot be undone even by the well intentioned evil of another."

"Are you going to fire me?"

Dumbledore started, looking at him in surprise. "Why would I do that?"

"I've just told you that I can, and in the past have, manipulated people in ways even the Imperius can't. I wouldn't blame you if you lost trust in me."

"I cannot deny that it concerns me to learn you're capable of such things, but you have never given me reason to distrust you, Gareth. You're a good teacher. I don't want to fire you." He paused, then went on, "But Frederick has no money any longer; he could be charged for abuse as well?"

"Why? To put Theo through the stress and difficulty of a trial? Frederick's going to prison for a long time, I'd bet my life on that, and Theo turns seventeen in little more than a year and a month. He's staying with the Valentines this summer, we have a year to make arrangements for next summer, and after that he's officially an adult. He doesn't have to see his father ever again."

"But justice—"

"Is up to him. I'm going to make sure he has the chance to talk to someone about this, Albus, but pressing charges is his choice. He's nearly sixteen; no one can force him to at this stage of his life."

"He must want to."

Gareth shrugged. "Some do take comfort from seeing their abuser charged and imprisoned, once the stress of the trial is over, but some of them just want the pain to stop and to never see their abuser again, to move on with their life. It's not our place to decide which choice is better for them."

* * *

Gabriel and Lorna said that they couldn't forbid Theo to smoke, not being his official guardians, but they did insist he not do it in the house and they forbade him from giving any to Harry, a rule he obeyed despite Harry's insistence that his parents would never find out.

Determined as Harry was to prove he wasn't an addict and could manage just fine without smoking—and he _was_ , really he was; _no_ his recent irritability, trouble sleeping, and increased appetite had nothing to do with nicotine withdrawal, thankyouverymuch—Harry nevertheless took advantage of the fact that no one could stop him hanging out with Theo while Theo smoked, and did manage to convince Theo to share a little smoke through shotgunning.

Their Hogwarts letters came in mid-August, including Theo's, and held a surprise for all of them: Theo and Tori were made prefects, and Harry had a permission slip for a Muggle Studies field trip and had been named captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"The seventh years aren't going to be happy, especially Bletchley," Theo said, and Harry's grin fell as he looked up from his green and silver badge.

"Oh god, you're right. They're going to think they deserve it." He frowned. "I wonder why Professor Martin picked me instead."

"Probably so he doesn't need to pick someone new next year," Theo pointed out. "You can head it up for the next three years and make us unbeatable."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, forcing a smile. The next two years, maybe. He felt like everyone was picking on his non-existent future these days. Maybe he should get back to researching demon deals, but he didn't really want to. Everything he'd looked at so far said that it was impossible to avoid paying the debt, and if he was going to die then he didn't want to waste his last two and a half years of life reading ancient books, scrolls, and journals searching for something that didn't exist. There had to be better ways of spending his time.

It made school redundant, too, he had to admit. He'd never live to sit his NEWTs; was there even any point in returning to Hogwarts after this year? Maybe he should just sit his OWLs and then find something else to do for the last eighteen months. He'd ask Anita about her plans; she was even more ready to accept their deaths than he was, so she must have already put thought into the final years of their lives.

Rather than take a trip to London purely for their school supplies, all of them went down to London a few days before the start of term to spend it in the town house and Jennifer shadowed Harry, Tori, and Theo to Diagon Alley, the latter unaware of the trailing presence of the Valentines' daylight guardian. Harry and Tori had argued heavily with Gabriel and Lorna to not have Jennifer accompany them in the open; they were fifteen and perfectly capable of going round Diagon Alley by themselves.

Harry was especially embarrassed by the idea of being escorted. He'd had a growth spurt that shot him to nearly five foot eight—still shorter than Theo by more than an inch, but after a childhood of being among the smallest of his age group, this growth delighted him—and he'd noticed he was starting to get hair on his lower face. Not enough to warrant shaving just yet, but enough to make him feel definitely grown up enough to not need a daylight guardian.

On the trip back to Hogwarts, Harry spent most of the time with Anita and Neville Longbottom while Tori and Theo were off in the prefects' carriage. To no one's surprise, Hermione Granger was one of the Gryffindor prefects, but they didn't learn the rest until the train was more than halfway to Hogwarts and Hermione joined them. Dean Thomas was the second Gryffindor prefect, along with Tracey Davis from Slytherin, Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, and Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff.

"I'm surprised you're not a prefect," Hermione said to Harry.

"It's 'cause I'm Quidditch Captain."

"But you can be both. One of Ron Weasley's older brothers was Quidditch Captain, prefect, _and_ Head Boy."

"Huh. Well, I don't care. Theo'll be a good prefect."

"I heard he got caught smoking marijuana at Christmas," Hermione said disapprovingly, "and I know he's one of the smokers that hangs out behind the greenhouses."

"We both did and I smoke too," he said, to her apparent surprise, "and I've been in trouble for other stuff more than him. It's not a surprise I wasn't made prefect."

"Why don't the teachers do anything about the smokers?" Neville wondered aloud. "Everyone knows where they do it."

"They know it won't stop them," Anita said. "They'll just move somewhere else, so they probably decide they might as well just leave them to it."

Hermione didn't approve of this theory. "It might stop some of them. It's really bad for you and it's not like it's cool or anything."

"Yes, we know," Harry said, because it was obvious this comment was aimed at him.

"So why do you do it?" Hermione pushed.

He shrugged. "Just because. I tried it and decided I liked it. Anyway, it's my lungs and my life and if I want to smoke them to death then I will. It's none of _your_ business."

Not that he'd had a cigarette in _weeks_ , which just proved his parents wrong, and any plans he might have in taking it up again now he was free to do so was _entirely his choice_ and in no way influenced by addiction.

It was, however, slightly influenced by the Marauder's Map. Sirius had given it to him at the end of the last term, saying that the old blank bit of parchment had belonged to James and that Harry should now have it and spend the summer figuring out how to make it work. The only clue Sirius gave was, "Think like James," which wasn't very helpful given that Harry had never known James and couldn't know how to think like him.

But he had an arsenal of spells and it didn't take much analysing for him to realise how the contents of the parchment were hidden. He could have removed the disguising charms entirely, but that felt criminal so he'd investigated a bit more to learn the passcode and was glad when he did. The map was _amazing_ and revealed not only several secret passageways within Hogwarts that he'd never discovered himself, but also several leading _out_. He was eager to explore them and sneaking into Hogsmeade to replenish his cigarette stock seemed the ideal opportunity.

* * *

As the first of September fell on a Friday that year, they had a whole weekend before classes started and Harry invited Anita to come along to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. She didn't really approve of his smoking, refusing to be anywhere near him when he did do it, but she was keen to have a bit of fun and it gave them chance to hang out. The first passage they tried turned out to be blocked by a cave in, but the second proved fruitful, leading them far away from the castle and, hopefully, not to a dead end.

"Did you know we're getting career advice later this year?" Anita commented as they traipsed along the uneven passage, Harry leading because it was too narrow to walk side by side.

"I heard something about it."

"Have you been thinking about it?"

"Not really," he said, and, because Anita was the one person he could be honest with in this, added, "I don't want to think about it."

"I have," she replied. "You know our deals are up midway through seventh year."

"I know," he said, a little more sharply than he meant.

"So there's no point in us bothering with it, or sixth year really. They're both just about the NEWTs, which we can never take. So I've been thinking..."

"You're not coming back," he guessed.

"Yes, but more than that. After this year, we'll have about eighteen months left. A year and a half. We should spend it doing whatever we want. Whatever makes us happy, instead of what everyone expects us to do. Why waste time on pointless school stuff when we're going to die? It's a terrible way to end life. So I had an idea: world trip."

Harry paused, turning to face her, their faces highlighted by their Lumos-lit wands. "A world trip?"

Anita's expression was determined. "I want to see the world, Harry. I'm an Indian who's never set foot outside of Britain, and while I'm perfectly happy as a British Indian I still want to see the country my parents came from. I want to visit the Harmandir Sahib and some of the other Sikh temples. I want to see Rome and Madrid and Paris and Berlin. I want to see wild animals in their natural habitat, take a plane trip and a cruise, cross the Americas from Canada to south Argentina." She paused, chest heaving in excitement, hands raised and brushing the walls beside her, and dropped her voice as she finished, "I want to see everything, Harry."

After listening to that, he kind of wanted to as well. Her excitement and enthusiasm was infectious and already he could imagine sailing across a sparkling blue ocean, watching dolphins riding the surf under a clear blue sky. It beat toiling through an extra eighteen months of school work and it definitely beat eighteen months of fruitless searching for a way out that he'd never get.

"I want you to come with me," Anita continued when Harry said nothing. "I've been saving for years, but my mum can't afford to stop work for that long and I'm having a hard time convincing her to let me go alone. If it comes to it then I'll just run away by myself, but if I could say that someone was coming on the trip with me she might be more willing to let me go."

"I'm not sure my parents would," Harry said quietly, his heart sinking at the very thought. "They won't even let me go to Diagon Alley with just Tori and Theo; they'd never let me travel the world with only you, especially not while the vampire war carries on."

"Would you be willing to run away?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered immediately, but then, "I don't know. It'd hurt them so much, and I think they could—they have ways of finding me."

"Will you at least think about it?"

He nodded. "Definitely. I really like the idea, Anita, but I'll have to give it some thought and work out what to do about my parents."

She nodded, smiling, and they carried on. The tunnel eventually brought them out into a basement. Harry hadn't brought his Invisibility Cloak with him; for the stealth they needed, it was easier to use a Invisibility Spell. He put it on them both before they crept into the basement then they carefully headed up the stairs and found themselves in Honeydukes sweet shop.

"Cool," Anita whispered. "You couldn't use it after hours though; you'd be stuck in the shop."

Harry nodded, remembered she couldn't see him, and murmured an agreement. Holding hands so as not to lose each other, they left the shop and started making their way towards the newsagents that sold the cigarettes. There was a narrow alley beside it where they ducked in to remove the spells then entered the shop. The owner watched Harry approach.

"'S'not a Hogsmeade weekend," he remarked gruffly.

"So?"

"So what are a pair of kids doing in my shop?"

"Looking to buy some fags," Harry told him. "Are you going to turn away business just because I'm not supposed to be here?"

The man grunted and put a box of Harry's usual favoured cigarettes on the counter. "Three sixty."

Harry hesitated with his fingers in his money pouch. "You put the price up?"

The man gave a unpleasant, yellow-toothed grin. "'S'not a Hogsmeade weekend."

Grumbling, Harry handed over the money.

"He's not very nice," Anita commented when they left. "Doesn't anyone else sell it?"

"Not to kids. They're not supposed to sell to under seventeens."

Unwilling to return to Hogwarts just yet, they chatted about their summers and Harry transferred the cigarettes to his tin, though didn't yet smoke one or Anita would leave him alone. Anita told him that she'd broached the subject of lesbians with her mother, but Mrs Darzi was so strongly opposed that Anita didn't dare out herself and Harry listened to her rant, making the occasional comment where necessary but otherwise just letting her talk.

"At least Hermione's stopped being stupid about it," she said eventually.

"What was her problem? Homophobic too?"

"I dunno, but if it was it's only lesbians because she doesn't have a problem with Seamus and Dean."

"That's true, is it? I heard about them, but I didn't know if it was just a rumour."

"No, it's tru- hide!" She grabbed him by the arm, jerking him down behind a dumpster and almost making him drop his cigarettes.

"What was that for?" he demanded.

"Look!"

He peered out. Professors Babbling, Vector, Sinistra, and Sylvanus, the new Defence teacher, were walking down the street, headed towards the Three Broomsticks. He pulled back and tucked his tobacco and cigarettes into his tin.

"I think that's our cue to leave."

* * *

 **AN:** I just want to mention something about Tori "inventing" the word biromantic. From what I could discover, the use of -romantic as seperate from -sexual in terms of attraction only started being used in the early 2000s. Nevertheless, I wanted that distinction in this fic and someone had to invent the word at some point; Tori was the person I chose to use for that purpose.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

Theo was right about the seventh years being annoyed that Harry was the new Quidditch captain. Bletchley, who'd been on the team since his second year, was so annoyed he nearly hexed Harry in the common room on the morning of the first day, only refraining when Harry offhandedly but pointedly remarked that he could choose someone else for a Keeper.

He held tryouts on the second Saturday of the term, after the first week of classes, and regretted scheduling them for early in the morning. He hadn't anticipated how hard the teachers worked the fifth years; in just a week, he had two essays to write, star charts to fill in, two pages of rune translations, ten complex Arithmancy equations to figure out, and a dream diary to keep for Divination. (If he had any dreams about sharks, he wasn't including them, but he had a feeling Trelawney would nevertheless find some way to predict his death.) As such, he had to stay up late into the evenings working and regretted not giving himself chance for a lie-in on Saturday morning.

He also underestimated how stressful try-outs could be when you were organising them. He swore there hadn't been so many bad fliers when he tried out in his second year, but maybe he'd just improved since then and had a better eye for skilled flying. There were crashes, broken noses and lost teeth, and bitter rejects that Harry had to yell at to make them go away. He was very close to hexing them and did go so far as to draw his wand when sixth year Henry Bowden shoved him in response to not being assigned the position of Beater.

Eventually, however, he had a team. He'd kept Bletchley as Keeper as well as Adrian Pucey as a Chaser, accompanied by Victoria Vaisey and Ginny Weasley, both fourth years, and made Terrence Tanner and Blaise Zabini Beaters. Blaise wasn't his first choice, but Lucien Bole resigned in protest at Harry not letting his mate Ivan Derrick rejoin the team, both seventh years unimpressed at Harry being the new captain.

It was halfway through lunch then and breakfast felt like a week ago, so he headed straight to the Great Hall from the pitch and ate with Tori, in part to ignore the glares and grumbles of those that hadn't made the team. He headed back to Slytherin after to clean up and change, but halfway there he passed a half open door and stopped short, catching a glimpse of movement inside.

Curious, he looked closer then almost pulled away when he realised it was two people embraced together, but even from behind he recognised Theo and something made him keep looking. He couldn't tell who the other person was, mostly because their faces were locked together in a heated kiss, and as he watched them an unexpected churning began in his gut. He'd have put it down to eating lunch too fast, but it was accompanied by an inexplicable urge to barge into the room and break the pair up.

He left before the urge overwhelmed him, making the rest of the way to Slytherin on auto pilot and barely paying attention as he got into the shower. Why should it bother him who Theo kissed? Theo was allowed to kiss whoever he liked and it wasn't as if Harry wanted to kiss him.

Did he?

He didn't think so. They had a few brief kisses in the summer, quick pecks after shotgunning smoke, but he still didn't feel any strong urges to start snogging Theo. Something had changed though, his feelings towards Theo intensified in some way. He'd been subconsciously aware of it before, putting it down to their friendship growing as a natural result of spending a lot of time together, but if he was feeling... well, jealous... about Theo kissing other people... wasn't that a sign of having a crush?

He finished his shower, dressed, and used the Marauder's Map to find Tori. She was in the library so he grabbed his bag and headed up there. She was in a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws studying together and he joined them for the rest of the afternoon then asked Tori to hang back when they headed off to dinner.

"What's up?" she asked as they walked slowly to the Great Hall, the rest of the group well ahead of them.

"Can I ask you some stuff about your whole biromantic thing?"

She side-eyed him. "What kind of stuff?"

"Well... did you realise it because you fancied a girl?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"But you didn't want to kiss them, right?"

"Maybe a little, just not great big make out sessions with groping. Just some cuddles and kisses. What's this about?"

He rubbed his scars nervously. "Um... well, say I saw someone kissing someone else and I don't want to kiss the first person, as such, but I got jealous about them kissing other people and maybe feel that if they're going to be kissing anyone then it should be me, would that mean I fancy them?"

"Yes," she said so bluntly it startled him.

"Oh."

"You can fancy people, Harry. The same way I fancy girls without being sexually attracted to them."

"Yeah, I guess. It's just never been a thing before. I'm not sure I want to."

"Why not?"

"Because it's all awkward. I don't like feeling jealous and relationships seem like a whole lot of work and... and just look at you and Tyler."

"What about me and Tyler? There's nothing wrong with us."

"For now. How long before you break up again?"

"So what if we do? It works for us."

"How does it work?" he objected. "You're on then off, on then off..."

"Yep, and it works for us. Don't get _your_ head in a tizz about it. So who is it that you don't want to fancy?"

"... Theo."

"Ooh," she said sympathetically. "That could be awkward, yeah. Best friend and all. Who did you see him kissing?"

"I don't know, I couldn't see their face."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"What do you think I should do?"

She shrugged. "Theo's asexual as well, isn't he? But if he's kissing people then he's probably like you, so you just need to find out if he fancies you."

"I'm not sure he is like me," Harry said, frowning. "I don't think he actually feels... attraction or whatever to people. He just likes kissing."

"Do you?"

It was his turn to shrug. "It's nice enough."

"So would you be okay to have a... a non-relationship if he didn't properly fancy you but you, y'know, kissed and stuff?"

"I don't know, maybe. But what if it ruined our friendship?"

"It's a risk," she admitted. "Up to you to decide how much and whether it's worth it."

He sighed. "This relationship stuff is way too complex. It's easier just to not fancy people."

* * *

A lot easier, he decided. After a careful conversation in which Harry determined that Theo really didn't care for romantic relationships, he decided not to say anything about his newfound feelings and just hope they reverted back to plain friendship again. Harry didn't think he'd mind having a relationship with someone that involved kissing or any other physical elements if that's what the other person wanted, but he didn't want one where the other person didn't really fancy him back. As Theo wasn't in the habit of snogging people anywhere he found a space, unlike some couples, it was easy enough for Harry to pretend Theo was as unattached as he was and therefore not have to worry about getting jealous.

Quidditch practice and insane amounts of homework helped distract him from the whole issue and he didn't get a lot of free time over the first term. Slytherin had their first match on the second of November, against Gryffindor, and beat them spectacularly. It was normal for the competing houses to taunt and mock each other in the run-up to a match, but Gryffindor's new Keeper Ron Weasley couldn't handle it, his confidence obviously shot to hell by the Slytherin jeers. He managed to save only one out of eleven goals and Harry beat their Seeker, Gemma Nesbit, to the Snitch, winning the game 250-40.

No one was very much surprised when Angelina Johnson replaced Ron, although some rumours said he'd resigned on his own, but his face was like a black thundercloud whenever Harry saw him in the weeks following and he focused his anger and embarrassment on Harry _and_ Ginny. Harry mostly ignored him, defending himself when Ron tried hexing him but otherwise not bothering to engage the boy, but Ginny fought back and the two got into several duels. Eventually, near the end of November, they ended up fighting so badly they blew out all the windows in the charms corridor, caused a suit of armour to go on a rampage around the castle, and ended up putting a third year Hufflepuff in the Hospital Wing with ears the size and colour of giant pumpkins.

Gareth and McGonagall put them both in a week's detention (no one was sure whose curses had done what) and a howler came the next morning. Mrs Weasley's voice screamed through the Great Hall for three full minutes about their disgraceful behaviour; it made Harry grateful his parents weren't inclined towards howlers. Some of the other students were laughing, but Harry felt embarrassed listening to it and even felt sorry for Ron, something he'd never thought would happen.

The winter holiday came and Harry returned home grateful for the break from school work, but also apprehensive. He'd spent what little free time he had over the past term looking through travel brochures and books about foreign countries and finally come to a decision about Anita's idea. Now he faced the daunting prospect of convincing his parents to let him take a trip around the world with only another teenager for company.

He left it until after the New Year when the holiday festivities were over and the house quieter, picked a time when he knew Tori was practising her violin, and sat down with Gabriel and Lorna in the family room. He stumbled a bit over his words at first, but took encouragement when they gave no objection to the idea of him quitting Hogwarts after this year and managed to steel his nerves to state outright, "I want to take a year to travel the world."

To his surprise, they didn't immediately refuse, but he quickly understood why. "I think that'd be nice," Lorna said after some consideration. "When the war is over and perhaps we'll wait until your sister finishes school as well."

Harry's heart sunk. It wasn't that he objected to holidaying with his parents, but this was about more than that. This was about striking out on his own, of growing up before he died, of he and Anita seeing the world while they could. In his mind it'd taken on a level of importance beyond just a sight-seeing tour and he couldn't do it with his parents and sister.

"I didn't mean that," he told them. "I don't want a family holiday. It's just for me and Anita, my friend from school."

"No," Gabriel said immediately. "Absolutely not."

"Dad—"

"No. I'm not letting you traipse around the world with another teenager. You'll get yourselves killed."

Harry clenched his fists on his lap, determined to keep his temper; he'd have no chance if he got mad and started shouting. "What if the war was over? I heard you talking to one of the vampires a couple of weeks ago; you said it's coming to a head."

"I said Aurelia is planning something big; that doesn't mean it's going to end the war. Even if it did, that doesn't change the fact that you're fifteen years old and—"

"I'll be sixteen by the time we leave," Harry pointed out.

"Still a child."

"I've got three NEWTs!" he cried. "All in spell casting. I'm competent enough for the Ministry to waive the no underage magic rule. I'm as close as can be to a fully qualified adult wizard even if I'm not seventeen!"

Lorna put a calming hand on his arm. "Harry, you're our son, we just want to look out for you. The world is a dangerous place for a couple of sixteen year olds to be alone in. Anything could happen to you."

"I appreciate you looking out for me, Mum, but you need to stop treating me like a baby." He looked between the two of them. "You can't keep me here forever. I need chance to grow up, to become my own person."

"You have your entire adult life to do that," Gabriel noted.

"I..." Not for the first time, he wondered if he should tell them the truth. Gabriel was incredibly old and knew a lot of people; he might be able to discover a way out of the deal. That besides, they were his parents; they deserved to know that their son was going to die in two years. But the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Will you please think about it at least?" he asked, pushing aside the guilt he felt at the secret he kept from them, knowing how much it was going to hurt them, and hugged them gratefully when they agreed to consider it.

* * *

The second term brought dire warnings from the teachers to begin revising for OWLs even as they taught them new topics, a notice for the fifth years scheduling career advice meetings with their heads of houses, and the Muggle Studies field trip.

It took place on the third of February, a Saturday. The seven fifth years—Harry, the two Hufflepuffs, and four Ravenclaws; Hermione had dropped it after her third year to have a less hectic schedule—met with Professor Burbage in the Entrance Hall, all dressed in Muggle clothes, and took two of the school carriages through Hogsmeade and then southwest away from the village for a few miles until they reached a single house.

"This is just beyond the high magical energy area of Hogwarts," Burbage informed them as they climbed out of the carriages, gesturing to a butch woman waiting next to a minibus, "and this is Ms Hower. She's a squib and she'll be driving us to Aelbarrow."

Ms Hower waved at them as they filed onto the bus. Kevin Entwhistle and Mandy Brocklehurst were the only ones beside Harry who'd ever been in a vehicle like it before, Mandy being a half-blood who took the class for easy scores and Kevin having ridden the Knight Bus. Ernie Macmillan somehow managed to twist his seat belt into a knot they had to use a spell to unwind and Michael Corner asked to sit in the driver's seat then jumped a foot in the air when he beeped the horn and set off the windscreen wipers.

It was a forty-five minute drive to Aelbarrow, during which Burbage passed around a tourist leaflet, a £10 note, and 20p to each of them, as well as two Muggle instant cameras between the seven of them.

"Aelbarrow is a small town but it's very old and has a rich history," she told them. "When we get there I want you in two groups—Ravenclaws together, and Harry with Ernie and Hannah so there's a half-blood in each group, and one camera per group—and you'll have an hour and a half to tour the town. I want you to take pictures, visit shops in the town centre, and buy something to experience handling Muggle money. I also want all of you to use a telephone—that's what your twenty pence is for, and there are a handful of telephone boxes within the town. Each of you has a phone number written on your leaflet of someone connected to the school who's expecting your call; they'll have some simple questions for you so you have something to talk about for a minute or so. At half past twelve we'll meet for lunch at the Hopscotch Cafe—remember that name because I expect you to find the way there by yourselves!—and then we'll all go together to the cinema, and return to Hogwarts afterwards."

That elicited a cheer from them all and they spent the journey chatting cheerfully. At Aelbarrow, Ms Hower found a parking space and Burbage gave them all one last warning to keep their wands tucked away and mind what they said about magic before letting them go. In a book shop Ernie was fascinated by the fantasy section and Harry had to shush him when he started get a bit loud talking about real magic. Both boys spent their money there, Ernie getting a fiction book titled _Sourcery_ to see what sort of stories Muggles wrote about wizards, while Harry found one called _100 Places To Visit Before You Die_ , and Hannah chose to buy a couple of teen and young women's magazines at a newsagents.

Hannah hogged the camera for most of their tour, getting overexcited about watching the photo slide out and gradually develop itself. They learnt about the town's history and several local legends about zombies and werewolves that they suspected to be true.

"Apparently You Know Who raised an undead army to attack Hogsmeade during the war," Hannah said in a half-whisper when they heard about the zombie story. "He might have got them from here."

Ernie shuddered. "Don't talk about that, Hannah. Look, that's a phone box, isn't it? We still need to make a telephone call and then get to the cafe."

Harry hadn't looked at his leaflet since getting it so he did now and his mood dropped to see, written in a space on the back, 'Remus Lupin' and a London-based telephone number. Ernie was already in the phone box and jabbing the buttons while holding the phone upside down, but Harry glanced at Hannah, peering at the name and number on her leaflet—'Susan Sprout', with an area code Harry didn't recognise. He wondered if she'd swap with him, but he didn't want her to ask why.

He corrected Ernie's hold on the phone and let Hannah have her turn after him. When she was done, Harry pointed out the church across the road and the information board in front and suggested they take a look, giving him chance to make his phone call without being overheard. It rang twice before connecting and a voice said down the line, "Hello, Remus Lupin speaking."

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Lupin probably had no idea Harry would be the one calling, so after a terse 'Hello' he stopped short of mentioning his name and simply said, "I'm a Hogwarts student. Professor Burbage said you'd have some questions for me."

"Yes, that's right. What's your name?"

"Is that one of the questions or just you being nosey?"

There was a slight pause. "It was me being polite, actually, but if you're so unwilling to share then very well. Please—"

Harry couldn't help it. "It's just that I'm unwilling to talk to you, that's all."

Another pause, slightly longer, and then: "It's Harry, isn't it?"

"How on _earth_ did you figure that?" he drawled.

"Oh, a lucky guess I suppose," Lupin replied in the same tone.

"What's your connection to the school anyway?"

"Pardon?"

"Professor Burbage told us the numbers we had were for people connected to the school. Hannah and Ernie—the others students—they called children of the teachers, but what's your connection?"

"I have friends there."

Harry remembered an overheard conversation from the Yule Ball. "You mean like Gareth Martin?"

"Among others, yes."

He wanted to object to that, but he didn't think he really had a right. What did he have to object to anyway? His first thought was that Lupin was trying to use Gareth to get to Harry, but if that were the case then Lupin or Gareth would surely have said or done something in the past year. Until now, Harry hadn't spoken to Lupin since his visit to Lynott Manor two summers ago. He had to admit that Lupin seemed to respect that Harry was safe and happy with the Valentines and didn't want Lupin in his life.

And that Harry was maybe being a bit unnecessarily unkind. He couldn't help distrusting Lupin, always thinking 'werewolf' first, with the associated burst of distrust and fear, and he could never think of Lupin as 'godfather'. Snape would always hold that place in his heart. But aside from the werewolf thing, Harry didn't really have reason to dislike him, and certainly no reason to be rude right now.

He cleared his throat and in a vaguely apologetic tone asked, "What were the questions you had for me?"

He heard a very soft sigh, almost disappointed, but all Lupin said was, "Please briefly describe your surroundings and where you've been today."

"I'm standing opposite a church, on a one-way street, and there's a little park next to me with a broken swing. We've walked around half the town, been in half a dozen shops, and had a trip on a minibus with the most uncomfortable seats in the world." Lupin chuckled. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that's everyth-"

Harry hung up and left the phone booth. He let Ernie and Hannah natter away as they returned to the town centre and found the Hopscotch Cafe to join the others. Everyone showed off the photos and purchases during lunch, and during the walk to the cinema Burbage told them to pay attention not only to the film when they watched it, but to everything else in the cinema because she was expecting them to write a two foot essay on cinemas and their place among Muggle entertainment.

They saw Jumanji, a pretty good film in Harry's opinion, and returned to Hogwarts afterwards. Harry managed to forget about Lupin for the next few weeks. There was a Hogsmeade weekend two weeks after the trip and the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match a week after that. It was a lengthy match and Gryffindor just managed to scrape a win when Gemma Nesbit caught the Snitch. The new Keeper, Cormac McLaggan was definitely better than Ron, but he spent half his time trying to coach the rest of the team instead of focusing on his goal posts. The close points in this combined with their terrible loss against Slytherin meant Gryffindor was completely out of the running for the cup; it was now down to Slytherin and Ravenclaw, as Hufflepuff had lost their first match to Ravenclaw the previous term.

The Slytherin-Ravenclaw match was in the last week of March and also became a close thing. The Ravenclaws had clearly been practising hard and Harry nearly lost the Snitch to Cho Chang, so until the last two matches were played and the score differences tallied, they still couldn't be certain who would win the cup.

Their career advice meetings were in the last week of term. Harry was the very last of the Slytherins to go, on Wednesday evening, and he arrived at Gareth's office without having even looked at the various leaflets and pamphlets that'd been making the rounds between the fifth years over the past week. Gareth was at his desk and greeted Harry with a smile when he came in, gesturing to the chair opposite.

"Alright, Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. So, what plans do you have for the future?"

"I'm leaving at the end of the year."

Gareth didn't look surprised. "Oh?"

"I'm taking a world trip with Anita Darzi for a year or so. Eighteen months at most."

"I see. And what do your parents have to say about this?"

"They're thinking about it."

"Uh huh. I can imagine Lord Valentine isn't keen on the idea. He's quite protective of you, isn't it?"

"Too much," Harry agreed. "I think I'm old enough though, and I'm definitely capable enough."

"Between you and me, I have to agree," Gareth said, surprising Harry. Surprise turned to horrified shock when he went on, "Eighteen months, huh? Is that how long you have left until your deal with Crowley is up?"

* * *

"Why did you never tell me this before?"

"I didn't feel it was time."

Harry stood on a balcony partway up the south tower, elbows leaning on the railing as he smoked a cigarette, Gareth beside him. They had a charm up to warn them in case someone got close, so no one would find Gareth smoking with a student, but as the tower wasn't used for anything they didn't expect anyone to be about. Harry had been surprised when his Head of House stole a cigarette from him, but Gareth said it was something he did occasionally, and had been a habit in other timelines.

"You didn't think it was time for me to know that you're... sort of me?"

"No, I didn't," Gareth said unapologetically. "What good would it have done you to know, Harry? What difference would it have made?"

"It... you... I don't know," he admitted. "I just... I feel like you should have."

"That's because teenagers hate thinking they don't know everything."

Harry scowled, flicking ash over the balcony. "Why'd you tell me now, anyway?"

"Career advice always tends to make it hit home that the future is short. Having someone to talk to about it can help."

"Time's not short for you. You made your deal on the second of May but your time loop ends on the first, so you never have to pay up, do you?"

"No, but I don't recommend my method. It really isn't that much fun and when I do break my loop, I'm still going to hell. Besides, who knows what it might do to the universe if two of us were stuck in a time loop?"

"You mean like a paradox?"

"Or worse. It might explode," he said at Harry's questioning look.

"Oh. That would be bad."

Gareth snorted.

"It must have been really terrible growing up in your world."

Gareth glanced at him. "My world did become a bad place," he said carefully, "but don't mistake that to mean I had a bad childhood."

"You lived with the Malfoys. They worshipped Voldemort."

"They also cared for me. I had a good few years with Severus, and when I moved in with the Malfoys I was happy. It beat living with the Dursleys, that's for sure. They weren't perfect parents—alright, they were kind of bad for teaching me a lot of the things they did—but in their own way they cared for me and for a long time I didn't know that the things they asked of me were wrong. I got a lot of privilege other kids don't. Privilege other Harrys don't. I've met some that have had it a lot worse than either of us."

Harry shuddered sympathetically, imaging how terrible things could have been if he'd never had Snape looking out for him even for just the summer every year, or if he'd never met the Valentines.

"Does Severus die a lot?" he asked, morbidly curious, and finished his cigarette. "Yours did and mine did, both when we were nearly the same age. Is that one of those Key Point thingies?"

"No," Gareth said slowly, "but I have noticed that the more involved Severus is with Harry before the deal, the more likely he is to die young."

"Do you think that's connected?"

Gareth shrugged, but his expression was pensive as he finished his cigarette. "Maybe. The deal is a Key Point, but for a seven year old to make a deal like that they need a trigger—something that prompts them to do it. For a Harry raised in a happy home, that something has to be pretty sudden and traumatic. The death of his caregiver is certainly that and as it's what inspired me to make mine, it's no surprise that it would push a lot of others."

"What do you mean it inspired you?"

"I made my deal because I wanted to be powerful enough to bring my—Severus back from the dead. I knew normal magic couldn't do it, not properly, so I thought a demon deal would give me that power. I'm not like you; I didn't just ask for knowledge of spells. I asked for the ability to wield magic better than any other person has before."

"What do you mean?"

Gareth nodded and wiggled his fingers. "No wand, see?" he said, then waved a hand in a semicircle before him. The lake far below them froze over in an instant, but the ice didn't stop there, spreading across the grounds and towards the forest, creeping up the castle until it crackled over the balcony they stood on and Harry shivered as the air chilled. For a moment moonlight shimmered on the ice covered castle, making it look ethereal and more magical than usual, and then the ice melted away as quickly as it appeared, all without leaving behind so much as a drop of water.

"Wow."

Gareth shrugged. "Child's play for me."

"But there's no magic that can bring back the truly dead," Harry said softly.

"No, not human magic."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean 'human magic'?"

"Demons can do it. They can truly raise the dead. So can gods and angels."

Harry looked at him in surprise. "They're real?"

"Oh yes, very much so."

"Then why's the world so full of terrible things?"

"Who does terrible things, Harry?"

"People."

"Right. And what's the world full of?"

"People. But aren't gods meant to stop that?"

"Pfft. Why? Gods are nothing more than beings of belief. They exist because they're believed in, and all that belief is what gives them the power. The more belief, the stronger the god, but what they do with that power... well, that's up to them, and why should something created by the minds of humans be entirely benevolent when humans aren't?"

"But what about angels?"

Gareth smiled. "Read a holy book some time, Harry. Real angels aren't fluffy and joyous creatures who want to protect humanity from all that's dark and evil."

"Okay, but if they have power then can... do you think... can they break a deal?"

"If they can, I've never seen them do it, so don't get your hopes up."

Harry tried not to. "I guess they can't break your loop, either."

"Ha! I should be so lucky."

They fell silent, staring out across the grounds. A few Thestrals were flying about above the forest and Harry watched them swoop and dive for a while, processing everything he'd learnt that evening.

He never could have imagined everything that Gareth told him, never would have suspected the truth about his Head of House. He'd raged at first, asking why Gareth hadn't stopped everything bad from happening—his birth parents' deaths, Snape's death, Voldemort rising again—but Gareth explained that there were some things he couldn't predict, and even for the things he knew of, he couldn't do anything for many years because of a compulsion put on him many timelines ago to not interfere with the worlds he visited. He wouldn't specify what spell had been cast on him, but he said he only broke free the summer before Harry's fourth year. Learning that it was a Dumbledore who'd put the compulsion on Gareth gave Harry a whole new, and slightly wary, appreciation for the Headmaster, but Gareth seemed confident this Dumbledore was nothing like the one that'd cursed him.

"Sir, can I ask a personal question?" he said quietly.

"You can ask, but I retain the right to not answer. I'm still a teacher, don't forget; there are boundaries to maintain, and I have secrets to keep."

That made Harry hesitate slightly, but he went on. "You're dating Remus Lupin, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Isn't that weird? I mean, he's technically my godfather—"

Gareth laughed. "Stop right there, Harry. The Remus Lupin of my timeline wasn't my godfather."

"He wasn't?"

Gareth shook his head. "Sirius Black was."

"Sirius!" But Harry remembered Sirius mentioning that he'd refused to be Harry's godfather before the position was offered to Lupin. "I guess he thought he'd be better at it than the Sirius Black I know."

Gareth shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but don't think it made much difference. Peter Pettigrew was still Secret Keeper to my Lily and James and he still faked his death, but he framed Sirius for the deaths first, as well as for a dozen Muggle deaths, and Sirius was sent to Azkaban. It's why Severus took me in instead."

"Shi...ugar," Harry said, correcting himself mid-word. "Poor Sirius."

Gareth glanced at him. "He broke out."

"What? How?! Did someone help him like me and Lucius did with Riddle?"

"No, he got out himself, but he was caught and given the Dementors kiss."

Harry blanched. "It really sucked for everyone in your world. No wonder you tried to turn things back."

Gareth nodded. He turned and leant a hip against the railing as he watched Harry. "I know you spoke to Remus on your Muggle Studies trip."

Harry shrugged.

"What's your problem with him, Harry?"

"He's not my godfather."

"He's never tried to be."

"Yeah, well, maybe he should've."

"Is that it? You're offended that he hasn't tried to ingratiate himself into your life?"

"No. I don't want him in my life. I had a godfather and he died; I don't need a replacement. But it's what he's meant to do, isn't it? To show he cares."

"No, he's meant to respect you. He knows you're safe and happy with your parents. As godfather, he's meant to ensure you're safe and happy and he's done that."

"He came to see me _once_."

"Yes, but he asks after you regularly. If you expressed any interest in reaching out to him, he would be delighted, but he won't start it because he respects that you have issues."

Harry bristled. "I don't have _issues_."

"You do, Harry," Gareth said softly. "He's a werewolf, and they still terrify you. Understandably so; you were traumatised and that kind of thing sticks with a person. But you can at least be honest about it."

"Fine, I hate him because he's a werewolf. Happy?"

"Satisfied, for now, but I'd ask that you at least try not to be rude should you speak to him again." He sighed, straightening up. "We haven't finished your careers advice."

"What careers advice? I'm not getting a career."

"No, but people are going to be asking about your future plans and you need something to tell them. Given your skills and plans to quit school, I'd recommend saying you intend to become an independent charms expert, or similar."

"Alright."

"I also advise you tell your parents about your deal." Harry looked away and didn't lift his gaze again even when Gareth put a hand on his shoulder. "They love you, Harry, they deserve to know. Lord Valentine has a lot of contacts and a lot of knowledge; who knows, maybe he'll do what's never been done and find a way out of it for you. If not, at the very least it'll probably convince them to let you go on this trip with Anita Darzi."

"I'm not sure it would."

"I can be there with you if you want. They know about me."

He looked up. "They do? Why'd you tell them?"

"Let's just say I was in a tricky situation and didn't have much choice. It's your decision, Harry, but if you need my support then you have it."

He nodded, undecided but thankful for the offer. Gareth squeezed his shoulder then dropped his hand.

"Alright, get off with you then. You've got fifteen minutes until curfew and I will take points if you're not back in Slytherin in that time."

* * *

Gareth was the last of the four Heads of Houses to arrive at Dumbledore's office, just after ten o'clock that night. He accepted a cup of tea and took a seat as the other three summarised their students' various career meetings, noting the usual bunch of hopeful Aurors, healers, and Quidditch players. Hermione Granger was surprisingly undecided, wanting to do something that helped people but unsure what the best way to do that would be, whether through law or politics or something more direct like healing. Zacharias Smith had his sights set on the Minister's office, but had a challenge in the form of Padma Patil, who they all agreed had a better chance at it (and would be better suited).

"Her sister and Lavender Brown want to be models," McGonagall said with a sniff that made it clear exactly what she thought of models. "I suggested a few alternatives and, as Hogwarts offers no NEWTs in catwalking, at least got them to agree to a few ideas that would fit the subjects they're good at and likely to take next year."

"Set them up with Hannah Abbott," Sprout remarked. "She wants to be a fashion photographer."

"That's alright then, because Terry Boot says he wants to be a clothes designer," Flitwick said.

Gareth grinned. "Next generation of fashion is sorted then, because Daphne Greengrass wants something related to, and I quote, 'bossing people about, but somewhere I can look good doing it'. She can be their manager."

Dumbledore beamed. "A nicely ambitious bunch we have this year, but I'm curious about several others. Ernie Macmillan, Tori Valentine, Harry Potter-Valentine, and Anita Darzi?"

"Ernie wants to teach," Sprout said. "Defence, preferably, but he's concerned about the, ah..."

"Short career expectations?" Flitwick suggested.

"Yes. His other choice was Charms."

"He might be fit for it by the time I'm ready to retire," Flitwick said. "He's got the scores, but he needs to grow up a bit before he starts teaching. As for Tori Valentine, she wants to take Kyoto School of Magic's Dark Arts and Undead Creatures advanced study courses, and then become a vampire when she's twenty-one and join her father's nest. She doesn't seem to have any interest in a career, although when I pushed her she did say she would enjoy playing the violin professionally. She said her interest in the Dark Arts is pure academic curiosity that she can't fulfil here because of our curriculum."

"She could certainly afford to manage without work," Gareth said with a shrug. "Her family has enough coin to get by for centuries. As for the violin, I'm no musician, but from what I've heard she is very good."

"Professional musician is something to aspire to," Sprout said. "Perhaps we should encourage that instead of an interest in Dark Arts. I don't know about the vampire thing, though."

"It's ridiculous, surely," McGonagall said.

Gareth shrugged again. "Lord Valentine will do it. He'll probably encourage her to the violin career so she has something to do even as a vampire, but he'll turn her if he believes it's what she really wants, and I won't be surprised if it is."

"What a bunch!" McGonagall scoffed. "That's almost as bad as Anita Darzi. She said she's leaving at the end of the year to travel the world for a year and a half, and after that it won't matter."

"Why not?" Sprout asked curiously.

"I've no idea, she wouldn't tell me, but she seemed insistent that she doesn't need to a pick a career and she has absolutely no interest in taking her NEWTs."

"That is concerning," Dumbledore said. "We should keep an eye on her and ears open. I understand she's gay; has she been bullied for that? Or any trouble about her religious beliefs?"

All four teachers shook their heads and McGonagall said, "No bad news from home, either, although she admitted her mother doesn't want her to travel the world, and her friendships seem stable. I've not seen any hints of depression and... well, since Alex Stone's attempt... we've all been looking a little closer."

She glanced at the other three, who were quick to agree.

"Of course. Perhaps have another chat with Anita at a later date; we'll see if we can find out what's going on." McGonagall nodded and Dumbledore looked to Gareth. "What are Harry's plans for the future?"

"He's joining Anita on her world trip, assuming he can get his parents to agree to it."

"And after?"

"Independent charms expert," Gareth lied.

"Spell caster for hire!" Flitwick managed to put a world of disdain into the phrase. "He can do better than that!"

"He said he doesn't want tying down. Like I said, the Valentine fortune is large, and the Potter fortune is nothing to turn your nose up at either, so he won't ever find himself hard for cash, but I doubt he'll ever be short of work when word gets out. His name alone would kick start a career and after that his skills would prove themselves."

"Not planning to take his NEWTs either, I notice," Dumbledore remarked, and Gareth shook his head. "Well, perhaps we'll get him teaching here eventually; perhaps he will break our Defence curse and I do get a lot of casters for hire applying for work. Unfortunately it's usually the ones who aren't good enough to—Gareth?"

A sharp, hot pain had suddenly lanced across Gareth's throat and he clutched at it, dropping his tea cup and choking on an inhaled breath.

"Gareth, what's wrong?"

"I'll call Poppy," McGonagall said, leaping from her chair and stalking to the fireplace while Dumbledore hurried around his desk to Gareth's side.

"No!" Gareth's voice came out in a rasp and he had to cough to clear his throat, struggling up from his seat and then staggering as fresh pain lanced through his right thigh. Sprout manage to catch him before he hit the floor and then Dumbledore and Flitwick crowded around him too. "I don't need Poppy. I need out, Albus," he said urgently to the headmaster, one hand still clutching his throat as he started to stand again. "I have to go, right now."

Dumbledore grabbed his arm hard, not letting him move. Gareth could see that he understood what was happening and the possible risk Gareth suddenly faced. "Are the students safe?"

"Yes, just let me—Argh!" New pain through his wrists and ankles, making his hands and feet spasm and sending him back to the floor.

"You can find a room—" Dumbledore began, a hint of pity in his gaze.

"No, I need to go!"

He forced himself to his feet as the pains faded, not quite leaving but reducing to just an echo—an echo of the pain his Master was in. He wrenched free of Sprout and Dumbledore's supporting grips and lurched to the fireplace, snatching a handful of Floo powder and throwing it into the flames then Flooing directly to his flat in London.

From there he flew, following the invisible connection between himself and his Master until it dropped him outside the boundaries of the protection spells around Aurelia's base—literally a small, abandoned military base in Somerset. They had always known where it was, they just hadn't been able to break into it, just as she couldn't breach Lynott Manor since her first appearance in the country.

At least, Gabriel and his vampires couldn't. He'd never asked Gareth and, since he'd said that he wanted to handle Aurelia himself, Gareth had never offered. Now he flung out a hand and wordlessly stunned the two patrolmen just rounding the corner of the property, and then snapped his fingers to make a cloak appear on his shoulders. It was full length and hooded and he let it fall forwards to fully enclose him, hood shadowing his face, shrouding him in dark red cloth. It was embroidered in a lighter red with symbols of defensive runic magic and at a touch of his fingers it become stronger than steel without gaining an ounce of weight. He ran a hand over his face and shadows crossed it, disguising his features from view.

Confident in his defence, he stepped as close to the property as he could and pressed his palms to the invisible protections. Instantly they sparked and crackled, but it was less than a minute's work for him to dismantle every protection in place. He'd sold his soul for power a very long time ago and learnt a lot about magic since then; he'd hardly exercised a smidgen of his skills in this timeline, but when his Master's life was on the line then he would dredge the depths and use every bit of magic he could draw on. It was the nature of the Bond: it demanded a Slave protect their Master with everything the Slave had—and for Gareth, that was a lot.

His unsubtle entrance meant that every vampire, witch, and wizard on the property came after him, but he expected that and none of them came close to touching him with fangs or spell. They crumpled to the ground in mid leap or while their wand was barely half raised, unconscious without even realising what was happening. The handful of spells that did reach him fizzled out harmlessly against his cloak and the bullets that hit him did so with all the force of a rubber ball thrown by a three year old.

Eventually the Animancupium Bond led him to the main building and he forced his way in to find a large room containing Aurelia, Mike Marlowe, Gabriel, Lorna, Edward, and Jennifer. There were also runes painted on the walls—runes designed to suppress the power of any wizard in the room. The problem was it only prevented spell casting _inside the room_ ; spells cast outside but going in were completely unaffected, so blasting the door off its hinges and waiting a precious second to view the room beyond meant that Gareth was still outside of it when Aurelia, in a display of intelligent villainy, leapt at him without wasting time on threats and posturing.

She was much faster than anyone else he'd met that night and managed to lock her hands around his biceps hard enough to break the bones beneath and latch her teeth into his throat before he blasted her off. She was unconscious before she hit the floor and a brief flick of his fingers had her bound in chains and the walls clear of runes.

Mike Marlowe drew his wand, a knife in his other hand, and dropped into a fighting stance as Gareth stepped into the room. Gareth spared a moment of attention to fix his broken arms then looked Mike over, disarming him with barely a twitch of his fingers, and pushed his hood back, dispelling the shadows disguising his face.

"You're that fucker that threw a cricket ball at my head last year, aren't you?"

"So?"

Gareth smiled, raised a hand, conjured a cricket ball, and threw it, adding a little magic to give it an extra boost. It smashed into Marlowe's face, blood spurted from his mouth and nose, and he crumpled to the floor, eyes rolling back in his head. Gareth turned his attention to the rest of the room's occupants.

Jennifer was slumped to one side, unconscious, her dress torn and her skin littered with bite wounds that still oozed blood. Edward and Lorna hung by their ankles from the ceiling, clothes torn away from their chests so their flesh could be carved open and rib cages cracked apart to bare their hearts. Lorna's was wrapped in barbed wire and her eyes were lidded; alive but hardly aware of what was going on and probably in immense pain. Edward's had been ripped out.

Gabriel was on the floor, stripped bare, his throat slit, but he was so old that even the immense blood loss hadn't killed him. A wound in his thigh went straight through from front to back, displaying muscle, bone, and tendon, while daggers were driven through each of his wrists and ankles, pinning him in place directly beneath his wife. It was a cruel torture; not only did he have to watch his wife slowly dying in pain, but all of her blood that dripped onto him only prolonged his own life.

Gabriel's eyes struggled to focus on Gareth, but he managed a weak, gargled snarl. He was pure animal hunger now, too drained of blood for his mind to focus on anything else. Gareth went to Marlowe. He was still alive so Gareth dragged him over and manhandled him into position over Gabriel, and used the man's own knife to cut his throat, avoiding the jugular and cutting only a two inch gash that let out a steady flow of blood—straight into Gabriel's mouth. Gabriel gulped it down greedily and Gareth watched the wound on his leg slowly start to seal up.

By the time Marlowe was drained, Gabriel's leg wound only looked as if someone had carved out a chunk of flesh instead of completely bisecting, and his throat was scarred over. Carelessly discarding the dead man, Gareth left and fetched three of the humans and one vampire from outside, levitating them in and manhandling one over Gabriel's mouth again, this time letting the man sink his teeth into their throat and suck them dry himself. Whilst he did, Gareth let down Edward and set his body aside, and carefully took down Lorna and vanished the barbed wire around her heart then cracked her ribs back into position.

"Let me up."

He glanced over. Gabriel's leg was healed to a vicious thick scar and his throat was no more than a red mark. His gaze was focused and his voice clear, so Gareth felt safe in removing the daggers from his wrists and ankles, allowing the vampire to move. He went immediately to Lorna's side, inspecting her, and Gareth moved away to the wall, levitating over the vampire he'd brought in from outside. Lorna was younger than Gabriel and her heart had been damaged, so she needed the boost of a vampire's blood before human blood would do, but once the boost had revived her, she'd be struck by the blood lust and attack the nearest human to her. Gareth hung back and would let it be the two unconscious wizards who'd worked for Aurelia.

He didn't let himself feel bad about the deaths happening, just as he hadn't when he'd dragged a woman to Gabriel at the Quidditch World Cup to help him survive the sword wound to the chest. This was war and these witches and wizards picked the wrong side; death was a risk they took when they made that decision. Gareth had seen too much fighting and too much death in his lifetime to let it bother him when people he didn't know died. Hell, half the time he didn't care if it was someone he _did_ know, unless they'd had some significant importance in his original timeline or he'd grown close to them in the current timeline.

He checked on Jennifer while Lorna fed. She was still alive, but just barely and not for much longer. By the looks of it, she'd been attacked by numerous people at once, all working to drain her of blood. He conjured a cloth and water to clean her wounds and repaired her clothes, but there was nothing he could do to save her life without potions that he didn't have.

"Can she survive a little longer?"

He looked up at Gabriel, now standing over him and Jennifer. Lorna was sitting up on the other side of the room, stealing a coat off one of the dead humans to cover herself now that her chest had sealed itself back together. Gabriel hadn't bothered with finding clothes.

"Not much longer. Where's Ada?"

"Safe, I hope. She took the day off, she wasn't with us when we were ambushed. I will turn Jennifer, in a minute. We've discussed it before as a possibility."

Gareth nodded and looked over at Aurelia. "Kill her and end this, m'lord."

Gabriel turned away and moved to crouch by Aurelia. "Can you wake her?"

A snap of Gareth's fingers and Aurelia's eyes fluttered open. She snarled at Gabriel and tried to lunge at him, but she was still bound in chain and could do nothing. Gabriel grabbed her by the chin, leaning closer.

" _Nunc finitur, Aurelia_ ," he said, and sank his teeth into her neck. She thrashed, struggling, but Gareth, attention back on Jennifer, idly increased the weight of the chains and, as Gabriel fed, she weakened and finally went completely limp.

"Remove the chains, Gareth."

He did so without looking around, but he heard the noise of Gabriel cutting into her, and when he finally looked over it was to see Aurelia with a hole in her chest and Gabriel scattering the remains of her heart across the floor. He helped Lorna to her feet and together they approached Gareth and Jennifer.

"Is it safe to move her?"

"No."

Gabriel nodded, crouched, and split open his wrist. He paused with it partway to her when Gareth conjured clothes straight onto his body.

"She won't appreciate waking up to find you crouched by her naked," Gareth explained and Gabriel continued to place his bleeding wrist to Jennifer's mouth. "Don't you need to feed from her first?"

"I already have," Gabriel said quietly, regret clear in his voice. "As did Aurelia."

Gareth said nothing.

"How did you get in here, Gareth?" Lorna asked.

"I walked."

"Through the protections?" Gabriel said, glancing at him. "You could have got us in here before."

"Yes, I could, but you told me that you wanted to handle Aurelia yourself and you didn't need a human to fight your battles for you, and you never asked me to get you in here. You knew I was powerful, m'lord, and I told you before I could kill Aurelia with ease. You refused me."

Jennifer stirred. She started to actively suck on Gabriel's wrist, not just letting the blood drip into her mouth, and he let her for a minute then jerked his wrist away. She snarled, mouth bloody and canines already lengthening, then her gaze drifted up towards Gareth, but Gabriel grabbed her chin and drew her attention back. "You're not to feed yet. You'll be stronger if you let the vampire blood do its work before you feed on a human. Focus. Don't let the hunger control you. Tell me your name."

Her eyes flicked towards Gareth again, but she closed them, shuddered, and let her lips fall back into place. "J-Jennifer," she said. "Jennifer Fontaine."

"Good. Can you stand?"

"I think so."

"Then it's time to leave. Gareth, bring Aurelia's body."

"What happened here?" Jennifer asked as they headed out. Gabriel was supporting Lorna, still weak on her feet, and had a hand on Jennifer's arm just in case she gave into her fresh blood lust. Gareth raised his hood again, letting it hide his face as he levitated Aurelia's body after them.

"Gareth happened. I notice everyone is still alive."

"I might sacrifice a few people for you, m'lord, but I'm not in the habit of mass murder."

"But they're _all_ alive?" Lorna noticed as they stood at the top of the steps out of the building, looking over the unconscious bodies strewn across the grounds around them. "You didn't have to kill even one in self-defence?"

"No."

"Wake them up," Gabriel ordered. "And get Aurelia's body in the air."

Gareth obeyed. There was a moment of noise as the newly awoken figured out what was going on, and then silence as they all stared at the group on top of the stairs. Gabriel carefully stepped forward, making sure Lorna was steady, and swept his gaze over them all.

"Your leader is dead!" he announced, voice carrying across the base. "Kneel to me now and live. Stand your defiance and you will have the chance to leave the country on the condition of never returning to Britain so long as I live here. Kneel with the intention of betraying me later and you will die slowly and painfully. If you're human, you may walk away now, unharmed, and remain in the country, but also expect a painful death if you try to come against me later. Make your choice now."

Almost all the humans turned their backs and left, many of them running. Most of the vampires, after a moment, dropped to their knees until only a handful remained standing.

"Very well. You all know where I live. Present yourself at my home tomorrow night to swear your loyalty to me and my nest, or leave the country. If you haven't done either of these before dusk on Friday, I will hunt you down."

He dismissed them with a turn, lowering his voice. "Burn this place down, Gareth, and get us home."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Lynott Manor was busier than Harry or Tori had ever seen over the spring holiday and they were lucky to see their father once a day. There were celebrations at the war being over, the nest had almost doubled in size, and vampires from all over came to pay their respects to Gabriel. People who weren't part of the nest wanted him to make sure he wasn't going to make an enemy of them next, because the story had got around—the story that Gabriel Valentine let himself get captured and then, even when he was almost dead, summoned a demon of shadows and used it to wipe out an entire base of vampires and trained wizards to free him so he could tear out Aurelia's heart with his bare hands and eat it.

"Is that true?" Harry and Tori asked Lorna when they heard it.

"No, he cut it out, and he didn't eat it, and it was a wizard who helped us escape, not a demon."

"But what about the rest of it?"

"The rest of it..." Lorna murmured, rubbing at her chest. Heart wounds always took a long time to heal. "Well, we were not captured on purpose; Aurelia ambushed us. As for the wizard, it is true in part that your father summoned him. Gabriel is magically bound to a very powerful wizard and it was that which allowed him to call them to our aid."

"But they said it—he—walked through the base without taking even a scratch and wearing the blood of his enemies," Tori said.

Lorna laughed. "Is that what they're saying? He was wearing a red cloak, that's all. But yes, he did come through unscathed. As I said, he's very powerful."

"Who is he?"

"He doesn't want you to know that, and neither does your father."

"How are they bound?" Harry asked, curious and harbouring a faint suspicion.

"It's a very old spell called Animancupium, but you don't need to worry yourself about it. It won't harm your father and the wizard is free to do as he pleases now that the war is over and your father doesn't need his help any more."

"Right," Harry said, knowing that the wizard would never be free of it until they died. It gave him a whole new opinion of Gabriel, and not a good one either. He was pretty sure he knew who they were, as well, but he wouldn't discuss it with his parents.

He and Tori also barely got to see Jennifer. They'd had a carefully watched visit with her a few days after the start of the holiday to see that she was really alright after everything that happened, but hadn't seen her since and the visit itself was awkward. Jennifer had been the one person Gabriel and Lorna trusted absolutely with Harry and Tori, so it was beyond strange for them to watch like hawks when Harry and Tori hugged Jennifer. It was strange, too, to see fangs in her mouth when she smiled and the slightly grey hue that'd come over her skin. But being so newly changed, Jennifer's control of her blood lust was weak and she would be tempted to bite even her loved ones. She'd already nearly bitten Ada, who broke up with her; Ada was willing to work for vampires, but not date them.

"When can you live in the main house with us again?" Tori had asked, and Jennifer had looked to Gabriel for an answer.

"In the summer, perhaps."

"It's weird, you being a vampire."

"It's weird for me, too," Jennifer said. "But it was this or die, and at least now I don't have to worry about getting old."

"You can't come out with us in the day any more. Who am I supposed to go horse riding with?"

"We can ride at night," Jennifer said fondly, "but you are sixteen now and the war is over. You don't need a daylight guardian anymore, I'm sure."

"That's true," Harry agreed, but didn't miss the way Gabriel's mouth flicked down briefly. It wasn't encouraging with regards his chances of a world trip, but Lorna was smiling. Maybe she'd be able to convince Gabriel to come around.

Another change around the manor was how many vampires were in the main house. Edward was yet to be officially replaced, so a number of vampires ended up doing his usual jobs. They had always been allowed in the rest of the house, of course, but the influx of new nest members seemed to send them spilling out of the east wing more than usual. It took a couple of days for Harry and Tori to realise that this was two-fold: the new nest members were exploring, and the old ones were acting as guides and guards to make sure that the new ones obeyed the rules of the house—especially those pertaining to Harry and Tori. Most of them did; no one with half a brain wanted to get on Gabriel's bad side right now.

Which is why Harry had to assume the vampire he found entering Tori's bedroom one day had to be suicidally stupid. Harry was just coming out of the bathroom when he saw them. The vampire was male, appeared to be in his late twenties, and was very attractive. He had an arm around Tori's waist and was whispering in her ear as she guided him, giggling, into her room. They _looked_ happy enough, but Harry knew none of the nest vampires would ever dare touch Tori like that and Tori had once said that she'd never date a vampire until she was one herself. She didn't like the power imbalance of it.

So he followed, but when he reached her door it was locked and when he banged on it and demanded she let him in, she called back, "Go away, Harry. I'm busy."

"Not if I can help it," he muttered, and tapped his wand to the door handle. The lock clicked and he pushed it open, wand held before him. Tori was wrapped in the vampire's embrace, her blouse half undone, and although she shrieked at the sight of Harry she made no move to pull away from the vampire.

"GET OUT! This is MY room, Harry, you can't just barge right in!"

Harry didn't bother answering her; he was sure she was under the seduction so anything he said right now would have no effect on her. Instead he threw a Body Bind Curse at the vampire, but it dodged and then ducked the follow up hex.

"Harry, stop! What are you doing?! Stop it!"

"Yes, do stop, Harry," the vampire said in a soft, sensual tone. Harry's next curse died on the tip of his tongue, eyes fixed on the vampire's. Unlike before, this time he was aware of what was happening. He knew that his feelings were being manipulated, that the sudden desire for the man wasn't natural, but that didn't mean he could fight it. He tried. He kept his wand raised, hand trembling, as the vampire swept over and wrapped his own hand around Harry's wrist.

"You don't want to curse me really, Harry. Put the wand down. Join us."

Harry let his wand snap back to his hip on its strap. He stared up at the handsome face, a hot flush rising through his whole body, but still feeling a spark of hatred and fear beneath it. It made him whimper when the vampire trailed a finger along his jaw and he grabbed at the man's wrist, but otherwise did nothing as the man ducked his head and—

"Wha- hey!"

The vampire jerked away and spun, catching the CD player Tori had just thrown at his head. As he did, the desire faded from Harry and his hot flush turned to one of anger. Tori had paused with one of her speakers half raised to throw, clearly back under the seduction again, but now Harry grabbed at his wand. Obviously this vampire wasn't strong enough to control them both. He was fast enough to grab Harry's wrist before Harry could curse him, squeezing once to make bones snap and elicit a yell of pain.

But his control on Tori had slipped again and she opened her mouth and _screamed_. The manor had thick walls and floors, but the door was still open and her voice was strong and loud in a house full of vampires; _someone_ would hear it. The noise ended abruptly as the vampire crossed the room and grabbed her by the throat, still holding Harry by his broken wrist so he was dragged along as well, gasping in pain, left hand reaching blindly across his body to try and grab at his wand again. The vampire noticed and let go of his right wrist to break his left as well, then grabbed at his throat, squeezing hard and lifting both teenagers off the floor, one in each hand.

"I wanted to have a bit of fun with you pair first, but death was the endgame any-"

Something flashed through the still open door. Seconds later Harry and Tori were on the floor, coughing, while their parents knelt by them looking concerned and angry, and the vampire was dragged out of the room by two others.

"Harry's wrists," Lorna said to Gabriel as she put her arm around Tori's shoulder. "They're broke, take him to get them fixed."

Gabriel gave Tori a concerned look, but helped Harry to his feet and led him out the room. As they left, Harry heard Lorna ask in a gentle voice, "Tori, tell me what happened. How far did—"

And Tori cutting her off. "He kissed me, but I'm okay, Mum. Harry interrupted before... before anything serious happened."

Gabriel took Harry down to the family room, had someone fetch some ice packs, and Floo called their healer. Whereas a Muggle would have to visit a hospital for a broken bone, a wizard's personal healer could manage what they generally considered a minor injury. Harry sat with his wrists wrapped in an ice pack and a bag of peas (they could only find the one ice pack) for fifteen minutes until the healer who'd handled all his and Tori's childhood illnesses arrived. It was only twenty minutes work to fix the bones and to check his throat and Tori's when she came down with Lorna.

"Are you sure you're both alright?" Gabriel asked when the healer left.

Harry nodded and Tori said, "We're okay, Dad, really. Jack didn't have time to do anything really bad to us."

"If you're sure..."

"We are. We're okay."

"Alright." He hugged and kissed them both then excused himself. They didn't need to ask to know what he was going to do now. Jack wouldn't live out the night.

Lorna stayed with them and both were silently grateful not to be left alone right then. She sent another vampire—this one well known and trusted—to make them some hot cocoa and sat with them on the sofa, an arm around each of their shoulders. Tori reached across her and grabbed Harry's hand, squeezing gently.

"Thanks for interrupting when you did, Harry," she said softly.

Harry squeezed back. "You're my sister, I'll always look out for you. Thanks for throwing your CD player at his head when you did."

"I needed a new one anyway, but you're welcome. I'm going to start carrying my wand everywhere now though. Maybe I'll get one of those straps, too."

"They're pretty useful," he agreed, and they said nothing more.

* * *

Gareth stood in Lynott Manor's throne room and gaped. "I'm sorry, let me get this straight: you want me to quit my job—a job I really enjoy, I might add—and abandon my life to accompany your sixteen year old son on a trip around the world with his friend, who will be seventeen in October and thus an adult by wizarding law. And you're demanding this less than two weeks after I single-handedly save your life, that of your wife, and of your children's governess, and ended a war you've been fighting for over two years—or let's be really honest, for the better part of nearly two millennia."

Gabriel drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. "I am asking."

"Oh, yes, you're _asking_. And how long do I need to say no for before you start ordering, oh master o' mine?"

"Must you be difficult?"

"Yes, I must!" Gareth snapped. "Harry is not a child any more and the war is over. He can look after himself."

"He was nearly killed four days ago in this very house!"

"Yes, because you've got a hundred new vampires of questionable trust parading through the place. Most people might be suitably scared of you right now, but there's always going to be idiots that think they can do what Aurelia didn't and hurt you or your family."

"I thought you were trying to convince me to let Harry go on this trip alone," Gabriel noted. "You are not encouraging me."

"He's at less risk out there than in here," Gareth replied. "All it takes is one sneaky, lucky vampire to get the drop on him here. Out there, he's just another teenager. He won't be the only one backpacking it across the continent or hiking around America, and most of your enemies are in Britain right now."

"No, a vast number of my enemies have fled Britain— _at my order_. They are out in the world, possibly planning their next attack on me."

"Or they're getting on with their own lives. Just because they didn't want to join your nest doesn't mean they plan to stand against you again. You're the biggest, baddest vampire in Britain right now, but there are other nests in Europe and the rest of the world. None of them are going to start a fight with you, not even the ones led by vampires older than you are, and they're not going to be happy if any of their new nest mates try anything either." He glared at Gabriel, unbothered by the cold expression on the vampire's face. "The biggest threats to Harry right now are here, at home, not out there in the world."

Gabriel's voice was as cold as his expression. "You think I cannot protect my children?"

"Why else use me like you do?"

Gabriel surged to his feet. "For daytime _only_ ," he snarled, "and at the school where we couldn't. I am unfortunately limited in severe ways by my species, Gareth."

"One of those ways is not being able to protect your children at certain times. It's a fact; it's not my fault if you don't like that."

"Yet you refuse to help me protect them now."

"They're not babies any more, m'lord. They're almost adults and Harry is a powerful wizard in his own right. You can't keep wrapping them in cotton wool. Let them grow up."

"I do no see other people letting their sixteen year old children traipse around the world alone! I happen to know for a fact that Vena Darzi is refusing to let her daughter go."

Given what Gareth knew of Anita, he suspected she had plans to go even without her mother's permission, but he didn't mention that.

"Most sixteen year olds don't have three NEWTs under the belts, nor have they killed four people—two of them vampires."

Gabriel froze. As a vampire, this meant he was so motionless he could have won a Best Carved Statue competition.

"At the Quidditch World cup," Gareth went on. "He set one of them on fire and cut another's throat; both were too young to survive their injuries. He doesn't know it for sure, but I do and he knows it's a possibility. And while Vernon Dursley might have been an accident, Harry wilfully killed Voldemort. Certainly justified and self-defence, but it wasn't in the heat of battle and it wasn't a quick and easy Killing Curse. He slashed Voldemort's throat and watched him bleed to death.

"Your son is capable of violence and death. To be honest, I think he probably learnt that from you. I know what your opinion on the value of a human life is, especially compared to that of a vampire. He proved himself as capable with a wand as any adult when he passed three NEWTs before his thirteenth birthday, and the Triwizard Tournament was evidence that he's skilled and clever; you saw him work his way through that final task, doing spells that even the judges and teachers didn't know. So he was tricked by Voldemort when he was eleven and betrayed by Lucius when he was thirteen—I suspect he strongly learnt his lesson about trusting people. As for Aurelia and the vampire from this week—they were _vampires_. They have powers that no human can fight; he will always be vulnerable to them unless he becomes a vampire himself."

He paused. Gabriel hadn't moved or said a word and he didn't now.

"You can't protect them from everything, m'lord," he said quietly, "and you can't protect them forever. Children grow up. Eventually you have to let them go."

"He's not an adult yet," Gabriel said softly.

"He's closer than most people his age. You need to give him this chance, m'lord."

Gabriel stared at him a moment then turned away and returned to his throne. "You opinion is noted. You may leave now." Gareth didn't and Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he sat down. "Is there something else you want to say?"

"I have a request to make."

"Oh?"

"Theo Nott."

"What about him?"

"He's still meant to be under the care of adults until his birthday in September. Technically, his sister is his guardian, but I would like you to offer him your hospitality for the summer. I expect he would appreciate it, too."

Gabriel didn't even take a minute to consider it. "I would be happy to do so. Is that all?"

Gareth nodded, bowed, and left. Dumbledore had given him the night off, watching the Slytherins still at Hogwarts for the break himself, so Gareth went to London to see Lupin. He'd received a message earlier in the day asking him to come, and some gut instinct told him that whatever Lupin wanted, it wasn't good news. It was confirmed when he got there and Lupin's smile was notably cooler than usual and he turned his head away to accept Gareth's greeting kiss on the cheek instead of the mouth. Gareth said nothing about it as Lupin made them tea then invited him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

"I saw Minerva McGonagall in Diagon Alley the other day," Lupin said by way of a conversation starter. "We talked for a bit."

"Did you? Anything interesting?"

"Yes, actually. She said you took ill a couple of weeks ago."

"I'm perfectly fine," Gareth said, but he could see where this was going.

"Yes, so she said. She said it was odd. You seemed struck by something during a staff meeting, but you refused medical help and promptly ran out of the castle. She also said that Dumbledore was concerned most of the night until you returned."

"He cares for his employees."

"I'm sure, but the really curious thing is that all this happened the same night the vampire war ended."

Gareth said nothing.

"What's going on, Gareth?"

"I helped in the vampire war. I told you that last year, Remus. Gabriel Valentine sought my aid as one of his day wizards."

"I accepted that, but what happened in the staff meeting? What were you 'struck' by? How did you know to run out and help? Are you the wizard they all talk about? The one Valentine imbued with power?"

"I thought it was a demon they were saying came to help Lord Valentine."

"Some say that, others say a wizard. Was it you?"

Gareth looked at him over his tea cup. "If I was, would that bother you?"

"Of course it would bother me!" Lupin cried, putting down his own cup a little harder than necessary. "It would mean you're being influenced by a vampire! Who knows how much or in what ways."

"I do."

"What?"

"I know how much and in what ways."

"It's true?" Lupin breathed, stunned. Gareth nodded. "But how? Even the oldest vampires don't have that kind of power. They can't control people from a distance, they can't give them magical skill."

"The power is my own."

"You have the power to kill a hundred vampires?" Lupin said sceptically.

"Yes, but I knocked them out instead."

"You've never shown evidence of it before."

Gareth sighed, looking at his tea as he swirled it in his cup. "Of course not. I'm just a teacher, Remus. I'm very happy being just a teacher. People don't need to know about my power or they would expect more of me. And they would be afraid."

"Why should they be afraid?"

"You're afraid," he said, glancing up. "You've learnt I can kill a hundred vampires and you're afraid now. Power scares people. Even Dumbledore scares people, especially the ones that have actually seen him duel, and I could make Dumbledore look like a first year."

"You could have told me this before. Maybe I am a little afraid, but if you'd told me about it before instead of letting me find out like this then I might not be."

"Oh yes, 'might'. You can't know for sure, but I have the experience of saying you very probably would have been."

"You should have given me the chance," Lupin said quietly.

"Perhaps."

"And you're still under the vampire's seduction."

Gareth blew out a long breath, looking away. "I'm not under a vampire seduction. I never have been."

"You said—"

"I said I was influenced by a vampire; I never said how."

"Then tell me."

Gareth drummed his fingers on the table and glanced back at the other man. "Are we done? You and me, I mean. Are you breaking up with me over this? I know you have issues with trust and I've just broken yours."

Lupin pursed his lips. He lift his cup, drained it, and set it down before answering. "I can't say for certain. I won't deny that I'm angry about this and yes, you've betrayed my trust, but I love you and I want to hear just how much you've betrayed me before I decide whether it can be fixed on not."

Gareth nodded and waved his hand. Lupin's eyes widened when a book appeared on the table, conjured wandlessly. Gareth said nothing, just pushed the book towards him. Lupin picked it up, frowning as he opened it and began to read. After the first page he glanced up, but Gareth drank his tea and didn't meet his gaze, so he looked down and carried on. It was a thin book and only took him five minutes to read the first chapter, after which he put it down and looked across the table. Gareth inspected his tea leaves.

"Are you under this... Anima-" he checked the book, "Animancupium?"

A nod.

"With Gabriel Valentine?"

Another nod.

"Unwillingly, I assume?"

Gareth laughed at that, a dry, humourless noise. "As if any man would go under it by choice. And no, it can't be broken, undone, or removed. I cannot be freed from it except by death."

Lupin opened the book again, flicked through a few pages and then read a specific paragraph a few times before saying, "He controls your soul. He can make you do anything he orders."

"He can try, at least. I can fight, if I want."

"Do you?"

"Thus far, he's never given me an order I'm inclined to fight."

"He's a monster. He's... he's _enslaved_ you, bound you to his rotten soul. This is... he looks after child-"

"Don't," Gareth cut in sharply. "Whatever he's done to me, Lord Valentine loves those kids. He looks after them, he's never hurt them and he never would. Rage at him for what he's done to me, but don't accuse him of hurting the kids."

Lupin scowled and stared down at the book for a long minute. "How long have you been... bound to him?"

"Nearly two years."

There was a tense pause, then: "As long as you've known me."

"Yes."

Another pause. Gareth knew what was coming, but he wouldn't say anything until Lupin did.

"Did he... are you... does this have anything to do with our relationship?"

"In what way?"

"You know what way," Lupin snapped. Gareth said nothing. "You're really going to make me say it? Fine. Did he order you to date me to keep an eye on me?"

Gareth met his gaze. "No."

Lupin let out a heavy breath. "I had to ask, Gareth."

"I know. Even someone who hadn't been through what you went through would ask, and I get that you've more reason than anyone else to wonder about it, but it still hurts to have my love for you questioned. I do love you, Remus."

"I believe you."

"And you?"

"I still love you, Gareth," he said quietly. "I can't just stop."

"But your trust..."

"You could have told me about this before. You could have mentioned it when you told me you were working for Valentine."

"You didn't love me then. Would you have given me the chance? Or just broken it off?"

"I don't know, but I should have had the choice."

"It was my secret, Remus. If I'd told you and you'd broken up with me, how could I have been sure you wouldn't have told people? You didn't know me enough back then to really trust me—that goes both ways. People don't react well when they find out I'm soul bound to someone; they try and interfere and usually that means trouble for me."

"It would be trouble for Valentine."

"And _me_. Do you realise that if they kill him, I will die too?" Lupin's jaw dropped, eyes widening in horror. "With the Black Prison, they can just lock him away instead, but I would still have to see him. This Bond demands physical proximity to my Master and at this stage we're talking a few hours every week of being in the same room. Then there's the emotional aspect—when his emotions are strong, I feel them too, and getting locked in prison, separated from his family? That's going to be some serious emotion. All that depends on them even managing to arrest him. After what happened this month, I expect the last thing the Ministry wants to do is try and arrest Gabriel Valentine."

"It's not right!" Lupin exploded, standing up so fast his chair fell over. "He has no right to do this to you!"

Gareth stuck his left hand across the table and let the glamour fall away, revealing the scar tissue that was left from all the times he'd been forced to write with the blood quill. Lupin stared at it in shock. It was an ugly mess, the words not even visible, and there was permanent damage to the tendons underneath. It didn't bother him these days; he was used to it and his right was the dominant hand anyway.

"Lord Valentine didn't put the Animancupium on me, someone else did when I was a teenager." Lupin made a squeaked noise of objection but Gareth didn't give him chance to find his voice. "Lord Valentine realised I was under it when I proved immune to his seduction, and he also realised I had power. The Animancupium cannot be broken, but it can be transferred to a new Master. Lord Valentine did that and all he has asked of me since is to protect his children at times that he couldn't, and I am grateful for it because my last Master did not treat me well."

Lupin had to clear his throat before he could talk. "He did that to you? Your last... Master?" He said the word with open distaste.

"Yes. He forced me to write with a blood quill." He drew his hand back and let the glamour fall back into place. "He also forbid me to use my magic to its full extent, among other things."

"And Valentine, he only asked you...?"

"To look after Harry and Tori. The war had just started and he knew Aurelia would try to go after them; he wanted to be sure that someone was looking out for them while they were at Hogwarts, more than just the general watch we have over the students."

Lupin picked up his chair and sat back down. "This is really why you were kidnapped last year, isn't it? Aurelia knew."

"She knew I was important somehow; she didn't know about the Bond." Lupin said nothing to that, still staring at the space where Gareth's hand had been. "What about us, Remus? What happens now?"

Lupin sighed heavily, lifting his gaze. "I don't know. I need to process this, Gareth. I need some time."

Gareth nodded. It was better than he'd hoped and it meant he still had a chance.

* * *

Harry didn't take Gareth's advice and tell his parents about his deal. A few times he thought about it, but they were still recovering from their injuries and Gabriel was so busy and... and he was just too nervous to tell them the truth. He knew it was going to hurt them and he couldn't bare to do it, even knowing that it was going to hurt them much more when he died. He would tell them eventually, he told himself. There was still time.

He brought up the issue of his world trip a few days into the break, during one of the moments Gabriel was actually around, but his parents said they still weren't decided and to let them have until the summer holiday, when things in the nest had calmed down. Harry agreed without arguing; it seemed fair enough. He was therefore surprised when they sat him down a couple of days before the end of the break to discuss it again.

"Is there any chance you're willing to postpone this trip until you've finished schooling entirely?" Lorna asked. "You said you want to quit Hogwarts after this year, and if you really do we don't mind, but we would be happier letting you go when you're eighteen instead of sixteen."

"No," Harry said, slightly apologetic but nevertheless firm. "It has—I want it to be now, and I know Anita won't put it off either. Whether I come or not, she's going after this school year."

"I've spoken to her mother," Gabriel said, surprising Harry further. "She's refusing to let Anita go."

"Then she'll run away. She already told me."

"Would you?"

He hesitated, but decided to be honest. "I don't know, but maybe. I'm not going back to Hogwarts next September, I know that, and I really want this trip, but I'm not sure if I'd run away if you refused to let me. I think it's something I couldn't decide until the moment, you know?"

His parents exchanged a look then Lorna said, "We appreciate your honesty, and in that case we have a proposition for you. We will allow your trip if you agree to do Europe this summer, and you take your sister and Theo Nott with you. If it goes well—you're all sensible and nothing bad happens—then we will consent to letting you do the rest of the world with only Anita."

It was the last thing Harry expected and, trying to process it, the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Why Theo? Not that I mind," he added hurriedly, because this was better than his parents insisting they or some other adult come with them, "but why'd you suggest him?"

"We plan to invite him for the summer anyway," Lorna said, "if you agreed. We understand the only other place he has to go is his sister's and she..."

"Isn't ideal," Harry finished. He knew Theo didn't want to go to there, but since all Frederick's assets had been seized on his arrest and Theo's only other family was a squib cousin he'd never met, he had no other choice. Hayleigh Nott didn't earn much and most of what she did earn went on drink, according to Theo. He planned to spend all summer working to earn enough money to be able to get a flat next summer when he was officially an adult, even if it was just a shitty little place with two rooms, no heating, and cockroaches.

But as the idea settled, Harry decided he liked it. As much as he looked forward to the trip, he couldn't deny that he was more than a bit nervous about traipsing across the world with only Anita for company. He didn't voice that thought, because he'd finally had to start shaving every few days (he couldn't have a beard because it grew unevenly around his scars and looked ridiculous) and he thought that someone old enough to do that was old enough to handle travelling with only another teenager for company.

Still, doing Europe with a couple of others would be a nice in-between to help him get used to the idea. There was just the practical side of it for everyone else—he and Tori had money abound, but Theo didn't and Harry knew Anita planned to spend the summer doing jobs to earn a bit more last minute cash before she left. He didn't know what she'd think to them being accompanied on part of the trip, either. Did she view it the same way he did? See the trip as their farewell tour, significant to them because this was their only chance. How would she feel about Tori and Theo barging in on it?

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Gabriel said, "Take the rest of the school year to think about it. You can tell Tori yourself, or we will if you like, and Theo. We understand money may be an issue for Theo and Anita and we're willing to fund the trip for all of you. Travel, passports, places to stay. You'll have free access to the houses in France, Italy, and Greece, but we will pay for hotels or other accommodation at other locations. Spending money as well."

"Discuss it with Tori and your friends," Lorna said. "You needn't leave as soon as school ends, but do keep in mind that if Theo doesn't have a passport—we assume Anita has applied for hers?—it'll take four weeks to get."

Harry nodded and agreed to mention it. Anita and Theo had both remained at Hogwarts for the break so he had to wait until he was back to mention it; he wanted to discuss it with Anita before saying anything to Tori or Theo.

With their exams now so close, he went up to Gryffindor Tower on the very night he got back to bring it up before revision overwhelmed them. They walked together through the castle as Harry explained his parents' idea and Anita didn't take long to think about it.

"I think that's a good idea. It might make my mum happier, too. What does Tori think?"

"I haven't told her yet. I wanted to make sure you didn't mind first. This is supposed to be _our_ trip." She gave him a curious look and he explained his feelings on the matter, ears perked for the sounds of anyone nearby that might overhear him mentioning their deals.

"I get what you mean," she said when he was done. "But I don't think I'd mind too terribly if other people came. I know we've both got power and skill, but it's still... a bit nerve wracking. Going out into the world alone."

"I know what you mean."

"But you're right: it's our only chance. Everyone else has got their whole life to go and explore the world, but us..."

"Yeah," he agreed, because that's really all he could say.

He mentioned it to Tori the next morning during their joint Herbology class and by the end of the period she was completely taken with the idea. It left only Theo, and Harry wasn't hugely surprised when the other boy was far more hesitant when Harry brought it up that evening.

"Why would your parents offer to pay for me to go?" was his first big question. A few years ago Harry would have just shrugged and said 'Why not? They could afford to send our whole class', but he understood Theo's mind better now.

"They want me to go with more than just Anita. I think they're finally starting to see me as a grown up—or at least not a child anymore—and they want me to do at least some of this trip with a few people. They know you're my friend, and they know you can't afford it—" Theo grimaced and glanced away; he was still adjusting to not having enough money to never worry about it "—so they know you're more likely to go if they pay for it." He paused, read Theo's hesitancy and knew that he hated the thought of charity, and added, "It's not that they're paying for _you_ to go on a trip, they're just paying for someone to accompany me."

Theo looked over at that and smirked slightly. "Pretty sure babysitters are meant to be more than eleven months older than the people they babysit."

Harry jabbed in him the ribs. "It's not babysitting."

"Ah, replacement governess, then? Do I have to wear those dresses Jennifer does?"

"If that's what you want. I'm sure you'd look very pretty."

Theo snorted, but he'd relaxed a little at knowing that Harry's parents weren't just treating him as charity case. "It sounds like it could be fun and I was thinking of taking some time to travel after school, before my father was arrested. I wouldn't be able to afford that now, myself, so it's tempting..."

"But?"

"But I'd planned to spend the summer working, you know that. I need to start getting some money myself."

"I know."

"If I don't, I'll have to spend next summer with Hayleigh."

"You can stay with us," Harry blurted out. "My parents already said if we don't do the trip then you can stay with us this summer so you don't have to stay with your sister. They'd let you next year as well."

"Is your trip going to be done next summer?"

Harry shrugged. "I can always come home for a couple of months, it'd be no big deal. My parents would probably appreciate it and I'll be missing them and Tori and you."

Theo smiled at that. "Nice to hear, and thanks for the offer. I'll think about the summer trip; I can't decide right now."

"Of course."

* * *

The new term meant that the OWLs were now only six weeks away, or as many fifth years put it: too bloody damn close. As Harry had managed his other three OWLs without much trouble, he was surprised at how stressful he found the approaching exams. He supposed most of it was because he had a lot more exams to take this time, and none of them with the guarantee of an easy practical, but he also blamed some of it on everyone else. It was like the stress was a living thing that thrived in groups, an infection spreading from person to person.

A trade of illicit substances sprung up, offering people the chance to boost their brain power or manage an all night study session without suffering, but they were all bogus. Harry didn't even try any of them, just smoked twice as many cigarettes as usual.

And there was Quidditch. They played their final match against Hufflepuff on the fourth of May, beating them by 160 points, but they still needed to see the outcome of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match two weeks later. Ravenclaw needed to win by more than 200 points if they wanted to get the cup, so for the first time the Slytherins were supporting Gryffindor—not encouraging given their track record this year.

Ravenclaw immediately took the lead in the match, scoring three goals in the first ten minutes, then Gryffindor managed to land two. For an hour they kept that up, Ravenclaw not managing to get ahead by more than thirty points. The Seekers saw the snitch and Slytherin roared their encouragement at Gemma Nesbit, but Cho Chang was a vicious flyer and managed to keep the other girl from catching the Snitch until one of the Ravenclaw Beaters hit a Bludger at them, forcing the girls apart and giving the Snitch time to disappear.

For the next hour the Ravenclaws stepped up their game. By the time the Snitch reappeared, the score was 170-110, and the race for the Snitch had everyone's attention. The little gold ball led both Seekers on a merry chase around the pitch, darting just out of reach when they got close, and both teams' Beaters were whacking Bludgers to try and make the other team's Seeker lose speed or fall off course—or off their broom—until, finally, near the Gryffindor goal posts both Seekers snatched at the ball. For a moment no one could tell who had caught it, but then Gemma thrust her fist into the air and whooped. The sound was quickly drowned out by the Slytherin cheers as they realised this meant they won the cup.

For a couple of days, the joy of the win made revision a little easier and Harry was extra uplifted by Theo agreeing to come on the summer trip, but the stress was soon back and before they knew it the exams were upon them. Harry got two extra days revision—Monday and Tuesday were Charms and Transfiguration, respectively, then on Wednesday he joined his classmates for Herbology, but got Thursday free while the Defence exams were held. Despite the numerous, and sometimes awful, Defence teachers no one was any more concerned about it than their other exams. Professor had been declared competent, though not as good as Sirius Black had been, and the fifth years felt she was good enough for such an important year.

Friday meant Muggle Studies in the morning and Ancient Runes in the afternoon. With all the spellwork exams out of the way, the amount of spell practising in the common room over the weekend reduced noticeably, all the fifth years instead sticking their heads in books or pacing about as their friends quizzed them. Potions was Monday, the theory in the morning and the practical that afternoon, then Care of Magical Creatures on Tuesday, and the Astronomy written on Wednesday morning. Divination was that afternoon, the only exam to be practical only—Harry had to use a crystal ball, interpret tea leaves, and read the examiner's palm. He didn't have high hopes for it; it was still, in his opinion, a load of codswallop.

The Astronomy practical was at eleven o'clock that night and was another exam that he didn't expect to do very well on. He still found it hard to distinguish the constellations and matching what was in the sky to his paper chart. He was more confidant about the Arithmancy exam the next morning, but a little concerned about the final History of Magic exam; he had a feeling he'd answered a few of the questions with what he'd learnt from his parents, which didn't always match what the 'official' history said.

But at least then it was over. Most of the fifth years headed out to celebrate on the sunlit lawns. Harry, Theo, and a few others crept off for a celebratory smoke, and came back to find a handful of their year mates arranging a party for that evening. Apparently there was a room on the seventh floor that could turn itself into anything the user needed, but only from the outside so a couple of Gryffindors hurried off to get it ready for a party and make sure no one else came and hogged it for the evening. The school house elves would be able to provide them with food, but Harry offered to sneak into Hogsmeade and get some butterbeers. He was also cajoled into agreeing to at least try and purchase some real alcohol, so he took Theo and Tori along to help, the both of them magnanimously agreeing to break the rules despite their prefect status.

They split up when they reached the village. Harry went off the Three Broomsticks for the butterbeer, Tori headed for the Hog's Head for the alcohol, and Theo revealed that the real reason he'd come along was to go buy some weed.

"Don't worry, I'll share with everyone," he said with a grin as he sidled off.

Harry had doubts about their luck with the alcohol, but when he met them again outside Honeydukes, Tori patted her pocket. "He'd only give me beer and cider," she told them in a low voice as they crept back down to the cellar and through the tunnel to the castle, "no whiskey or anything stronger, but it's still alcohol so it should be good enough."

There was no official start time for the party, just 'after dinner', so people started turning up in groups as the evening wore on, but most people were there by eight o'clock. Hermione and a few of the other stuck up students made a show of disapproving of the alcohol and drugs and trying to insist the party only last until curfew, but they were ignored and talked over, and Harry didn't hide his grin when he noticed Hermione was still there after ten.

Anita insisted someone put up a charm to keep the smoke contained to one area so only those who wanted to get high would be affected by it. With no windows in the room, this resulted in one corner becoming a bubble of grey haze through which people became mere shadows. Justin Finch-Fletchley offered to vanish the collected smoke, but nearly got his wand snapped when he drew it.

"We don't want to _waste_ it!" several people cried.

It was a pretty good party, Harry thought, but that could have been the weed talking. He'd hesitated to smoke it at first, remembering that he'd told his parents he wouldn't take it again, but then he decided that a man who put another man under a slavery curse couldn't act superior and forbid Harry from smoking a bit of pot. Lorna's request wasn't worth much either; she knew about the Animancupium Gabriel used and she didn't seem to care.

Some people started to drift away towards midnight, sneaking back to the dorms or in pairs to find somewhere to snog. Some couples didn't bother, just finding an empty corner to use, uncaring of who saw them. Harry saw Theo leaving with Lisa Turpin and, ignoring the jealous twist in his gut, turned away only to pause at the sight of Anita kissing Hermione next to the snacks table. Hermione blushed bright pink, but to Harry's surprise she kissed back, tentatively at first and then more enthusiastically.

"Ha! I knew it."

Harry looked around. Tori was beside him, grinning triumphantly as she watched the two girls.

"Knew what?"

"That Hermione liked Anita."

"I didn't even know she liked girls."

"Rumour says she's still in contact with Viktor Krum though no one's sure if they're actually dating or not, but the way she reacted to Anita's coming out made me suspicious because she's never said anything about Lisa. I've watched her and I've seen the way she looks at Anita, but I had a feeling she wouldn't admit to liking girls until someone made a move on her first. I think she might not have even realised it herself until just now. She's from one of those Muggle families, y'know," she added in a lower voice. "The kind that are all 'gay is fine!' until it comes too close to home and then suddenly gay is not so fine."

"I hope her parents don't get mad at her for it," Harry said, remembering Theo's father's reaction to hearing that Theo might be interested in boys and Anita's mother's dislike. He wondered what Lisa's parents thought of her, if they knew, and Dean Thomas' and Seamus Finnigan's, who were making out unashamedly in a corner.

Harry joined the smokers again, thinking it'd help him stop thinking about Theo and Lisa, and half joined in the conversation about space turtles (he wasn't sure how _that_ started), but to his surprise, about ten minutes after joining them, Theo came and threw himself down onto the sofa beside Harry, stealing the joint from him just as he was about to take a drag.

"Hey!"

Theo took a hit and handed it back. "Sorry, but I needed that."

"Didn't you go off with Lisa?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "Hell of a quickie."

Theo scowled at the few sniggers that elicited. "It wasn't a quickie. It wasn't anything. She asked me to go out with her."

He said this as if she'd asked him to cut off his arm. Harry was the only one to understand and gave him a sympathetic nudge. Theo caught Harry's eye briefly to show he got the message and shifted, settling himself closer so they were pressed side by side.

"Aren't you already?"

"Wait," Tracey Davis said, frowning, "I thought you were going out with Tyler Swift. When Tori Valentine isn't, anyway. Which of you is right now? I can never keep up."

"I'm not going out with Tyler or Lisa and I never have."

"But I've seen you with both of them."

"At the same time?" Anthony asked.

Theo rolled his eyes. "I don't go out with them. I don't go out with anyone, I just kiss them sometimes, and no, not at the same time. I don't do relationships."

"What, at all?"

"No."

"You're never going to go out with anyone? You're going to spend your whole life just... snogging people occasionally?" Anthony paused, looking thoughtful. "Hiring prostitutes?"

Theo shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"But wouldn't it get lonely?" Tracey said. "Not having a partner? Prostitutes can't make you feel loved. They're just for sex."

"I'll have friends."

"Theo, you don't have friends _now_. You have Harry, and the rest of us you just sort of put up with."

"So _what_ ," Theo said tersely, "makes you think I would need more than that later in life?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Anthony said. "It's weird, that's all. Don't you want to fall in love?"

Harry was suddenly hyper aware of Theo's body next to his.

"Get married and have two-point-four kids?" Theo said mockingly. "That's not everyone's cup of tea, Goldstein."

"I'm not saying you have to marry the first one, or have kids. Not everyone does, I get that. But... it's love. It's like a basic human thing and you don't even want to try it?"

"Try it?" Theo repeated disdainfully. "How do you 'try' love? Look, I'm not saying that I'll never fall in love. Maybe if it was the right person, _but_ ," he said sternly at Anthony's loud 'Ha!', "I'm not interested in looking for them. That whole 'date people until you find The One' thing. I'm not doing it. I'm not _interested_."

"But then how will you find the perfect person?" Tracey asked him.

Theo shrugged. "Maybe I won't. I don't care. Anyway, just because they're perfect for me doesn't mean I'm perfect for them."

"Then they're not perfect for you," Anthony said knowingly. "That's how it works. You know they're perfect because you fit together."

"Expert, are you, Goldstein?"

"No, but that's how it goes, isn't it? How can someone be perfect for you if you don't fit? That's just unrequited love."

"Something wrong with unrequited love?"

"Aside from being unrequited?"

"So you're saying that if you love someone, but they don't love you back, then that love is somehow less than if they did love you back?"

"I'm just saying it means they're not the perfect person for you because if they were they'd have to love you back, right? What's the point in the perfect person _not_ loving you back? Unrequited love is painful, it sucks, and something that's painful can't be perfect, and if the love isn't perfect then the person it's aimed at can't be perfect either."

"He's got a point," Tracey said.

"He's a fucking idiot," Theo said with surprising vehemence. "Love is love. Just because someone doesn't love you back doesn't cheapen what you feel. I don't know about perfect—I'm not sure perfect is a thing that's really possible, in anything—but love is only bad when it's selfish or false. When you tell someone that they're wrong for not loving you, then it's bad, or if you use it as an excuse to treat people badly—'Oh, I'm only doing this because I _love_ you, really I am, you'll understand it my way one day'—"

He cut himself off abruptly and Harry was suddenly sure that that was something Theo's father had probably said to him. He leant into the other boy, trying to comfort him through sheer presence. He couldn't tell if it helped, but Theo at least dropped his voice to go on, "But if I love someone then it means I think they're as near to perfect as can be. I'm not going to demand that they love me back and I'm not going to say that they're less of a person if they don't. Maybe they just don't do romantic love. It's no different than a straight bloke falling in love with a lesbian; you wouldn't expect them to change what they are to make it work, would you?"

"No," Anthony agreed, "but I'd tell him to find someone else to fall in love with. He could never have a relationship with her, could he? So he might as well move on."

"Maybe he can't. Maybe he doesn't want to. He might be fine being in one-sided love with the lesbian and keeping her as a really good friend and just have meaningless relationships with other girls."

"Sounds stupid to me," Anthony told him, shrugging. "You ask me, he'd be better off just finding someone else who can fulfil both needs."

"Whatever," Theo muttered. He accepted the joint from Tracey, but after taking his turn and passing it on to Harry he stood up and stalked away. Harry passed it on without inhaling and got up to follow him, catching up with him as he headed for the door.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just done with this party. I'm heading back to Slytherin."

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine. It's been fun, but I don't mind leaving now."

Theo gave him a slight smile and they left. As they cautiously made their way down to Slytherin, ears pricked for the sound of teachers patrolling, Harry debated asking about what had happened. He'd never heard Theo talk about love like that, but he always did talk more when he was high.

He'd always thought Theo would never love anyone except as a friend, but apparently Theo had space in his life for one special person. Was he in love with a lesbian? Was that why he'd mentioned that analogy? The thought of it made Harry's gut twist worse than even seeing him go off with Lisa, his heart heavy in his chest. He didn't mind when Theo was just using people for kissing; that was like just eating because he was hungry and not caring much what he ate. But Theo loving someone else was like letting someone cook his favourite foods for him... and Harry wanted to be the one doing the cooking.

He didn't dare ask though. A tiny little part of him, a bit he barely wanted to acknowledge, had the faintest hope that the person Theo loved—if that's what the whole conversation meant—was Harry. It struck him as possible that Theo thought Harry didn't feel romantic love for people, given that Harry had previously made it clear he didn't fancy people, and so Theo didn't want to ruin their friendship or get hurt by admitting his own feelings and get turned down.

If that was the case, they would be better if one of them said something so they could both find out the truth... but Harry didn't hope enough to risk it. Besides, even if that _was_ the case, what would be the point? There was a week of school left and then it was summer and after that Harry was never coming back to Hogwarts. After this summer, Harry was hardly going to see Theo again, except maybe again next summer, so whether or not Theo did love, or even just fancy, Harry there was no point in them starting anything.

And if Theo didn't, then Harry wasn't going to ask who he _did_ love, because that was just heartache waiting to happen.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

For the fifth and seventh years, the last week of term was a doss. They got to chill out, relaxing about the castle or playing pick-up games of Quidditch, exempt from attending even the fun, non-educational classes that usually heralded the end of term. Bets were being paid out as Professor Sylvanus remained at the school, unharmed and with every intention of coming back next year, and new bets were being placed on something happening in the summer that prevented her return. If she did come back, she'd be the first person in about forty years to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts for longer than a year.

Harry flew a lot, wondering who would replace him as Slytherin Quidditch captain next year. It was one thing that he regretted leaving behind; he'd quite enjoyed being in charge of the team. He spent some time wandering around the castle as well, saying goodbye. It felt strange knowing he wouldn't be coming back and a few times he wondered if he was really ready to leave, if he was really adult enough to be going off into the world. While he knew more spells than anyone else on earth and he was confident in his skills, the world was still much bigger and much more different to Hogwarts and his home.

But what other choice did he have? Stay home for the next eighteen months and wile away his time there? Return to Hogwarts to study for exams he would never sit? Hunt down books and journals and anything else he could find about demons in the faintest hope that he'd find something that might get him out of the deal? No. He didn't want to waste his time like that. His death was coming, he'd accepted that, and he wanted to make the last years of his life worthwhile before it ended.

He, Anita, Tori, and Theo took advantage of the free time to plan out their trip, which was mostly a matter of taking what Harry and Anita already had in mind and adjusting it to include places Tori and Theo wanted to visit. Tori wanted places where they could have fun and do a lot, while Theo was more interested in places of historical importance and museums. After much discussion, they settled on the major cities and a few extra places of interest to each of them, picked a general route, and decided to venture anywhere good looking along the way. Being wizards, they didn't have to worry about wasting time travelling, although Anita wanted to spend some time travelling Muggle style 'to see the world instead of skipping by in fireplaces and portkeys'.

Theo already had a passport, Anita had got hers at the start of the year, and Harry and Tori had always kept their own up to date, so they wanted to leave as soon as possible after term ended. Mrs Darzi had agreed to the summer trip, but was holding out on the world trip and Anita had resigned herself to having to run away—or rather, never returning home after their portion in Europe was done.

A couple of days before the end of term, Harry went to see Gareth. He wanted to know the truth before he went home and he thought that Gareth might give it up easier than his father. He wasn't totally sure how to approach the matter, but in the end he decided to just be upfront about it and ask, "Were you the wizard that helped my parents on the day the war ended?"

Gareth looked at him across the desk in his office, arms folded on the wood, expression giving away nothing. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because it makes sense," Harry answered. "You're powerful and you've got a connection with my parents. They asked you to come to the Quidditch Cup with us, and they made you come with me when I visited Severus' house that summer, and it was you they told about Theo when I got his letter and realised there was something wrong at home. Dad trusts you, and he doesn't trust many people."

Gareth didn't answer immediately, still watching him with an unreadable expression, but eventually he nodded carefully. "Yes, I am."

Harry glanced down at his hands, fiddling with the edge of his robe, then back up again. "I know you're under the Animancupium."

Gareth's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to harden. "Do you."

"Mum didn't realise I knew what it was," Harry went on. "She just told me the name of the spell Dad used to call the wizard—you—for the fight, and I knew what it was."

"Have you told anyone? Tori?"

Harry shook his head and Gareth visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry, sir."

Gareth gave him a surprised look. "Why are you sorry?"

"That my dad did that to you. I don't know everything about the Animancupium, but I know it enslaves people and no one deserves that. It can't be broken, can it?"

"No, but you needn't worry about me. Lord Valentine is not a bad Master."

"But he shouldn't have done it."

"Are you mad at him for it?"

"Yes! I know Dad's not perfect. I know he's killed people and I know he had slaves when he was a human, back in the Roman times, but everyone did then. We know better now and even that wasn't the same as magically binding you together. It's almost like putting you under the Imperius Curse."

Gareth sighed, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. "I'm the last person that'll tell you that someone who enslaves another person like this is... good... for doing so, but your father's reasons were better than other people who have done the same."

Harry didn't keep the scepticism off his face. "What reasons? How can it be better? Slavery is slavery."

"'Tis, but there are other factors. Firstly, your father was not the first to put the Animancupium on me. You remember the compulsion I told you I was under to keep me using the full extent of my magic?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean that other Dumbledore put you under it?"

"No, my Lucius Malfoy put me under it. Since then, the Bond has been transferred to a number of different Masters. That other Dumbledore was the last before your father, and as well as forbidding me from interfering with the timelines I visited, he gave me orders to hurt myself even after I left his time. He was a cruel master and your father knew that. In transferring my Bond to him, he freed me from that."

"So he did it to help you?"

"It wasn't his primary reason. He wanted me to work for him, and as you said, Lord Valentine does not trust easily."

"Then he is—!"

"His first order," Gareth interrupted loudly, "was to protect you."

Harry snapped his mouth shut. "Me?"

"And your sister. With the war started, he wanted to know there was someone at Hogwarts who could protect you if Aurelia came here. It is the most your father has asked of me: to protect you and your sister."

Harry swallowed, processing that, but said quietly, "He still shouldn't have enslaved you."

"Why not? Yes, slavery is bad, I know that better than anyone, but I will always be enslaved to one person or another until I die—really and truly die. I can never be free of this curse, Harry, so the morality of slavery is irrelevant to me. What matters is the kindness of my Masters, and Lord Valentine asks for little, gives me a great deal of freedom, and does not treat me badly. I've had very few as good as him. Keep that in mind when you're deciding how this knowledge effects your opinion of him. Your father is not a bad man."

Harry nodded, trying to wrap his mind around it all. For the past couple of months he'd been battling a growing anger, disappointment, and frustration at Gabriel for enslaving someone, but when he considered Gareth's view on it he had to admit that it changed things. It was the difference between catching and caging a wild tiger and taking a captive animal from an abusive owner, and he had to figure out how it made him feel about Gabriel.

Two days later term was over. There was the usual mad dash to pack everything, Slytherin won the house cup at the leaving feast, and then they were leaving. Harry patrolled the train for the ride home, looking in on friends and acquaintances to say goodbye. Word had got around that he wouldn't be back next year and a surprising number of people wanted to know if it was true and then to wish him luck and enjoyment when he told them it was and why.

Finally, they pulled into King's Cross Station and Harry's Hogwarts life was officially over.

* * *

Lupin Apparated into Hogsmeade just as the Hogwarts Express left the station. He watched it go, remembering his own trips on the train and wondering what his godson was doing on it right now, whether he was playing games with his friends and sister or snoozing the journey away like some preferred. Was Harry worrying about his OWL results or did he have Jamesʼ confidence? From what Lupin heard, Harry didn't have much to worry about.

When even the smoke from the train was no longer visible, he headed through the village and up towards the school. He sent a Patronus message ahead of him, and was a little surprised when Dumbledore himself came to greet him at the gate, having expected a Patronus reply or the groundskeeper or caretaker to come let him in.

"Headmaster," Lupin greeted with a smile.

"Remus, it's good to see you again. You're doing well, I hope."

Lupin nodded. "I've just sent my next book to my editor."

"I hope you're as successful with it as the last."

"I've been told sequels almost never are, but the publisher's hopeful enough to let me keep writing in any case."

"Glad to hear it. Come in, I'll walk you to Gareth's office."

Lupin thanked him and they chatted more as Dumbledore lead him through the castle. Although Lupin had been there a few times since waking up from his coma, it was still always nice to see it again. With the exception of a few staff members, Hogwarts was just the same as he remembered from his own school days. It was good to see that not everything had changed in the thirteen years he'd been unconscious.

Gareth's office was down in the dungeons, the one that used to belong to Horace Slughorn in Lupin's school days, and he was going through a mess of parchment covering his desk when Lupin and Dumbledore arrived. He looked up at their entry with a frown, but then grinned when he saw who it was and leapt to his feet.

"Remus!"

Lupin smiled back and knew in that moment that he was making the right decision. Learning of Gareth's Bond to Gabriel Valentine and how much he'd kept from Lupin had hurt a lot. After Peter's betrayal and then Sirius' attack, Lupin found it a lot harder to trust people; he still hadn't forgiven Sirius, though he was beginning to a little. Finding out Gareth had kept things from him was a serious blow, but Lupin did love him and he was willing to forgive and move past it. He was still a touch wary, still a little less trustful of the man than he had been, but he wouldn't let it destroy their relationship.

"I'll leave you two alone," Dumbledore said, also smiling, though he gave Gareth a slightly stern look. "I still expect your office to be tidied and cleared before you leave for the summer."

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Yes, headmaster," he answered a touch mockingly, but Dumbledore didn't seem offended and gave Lupin a warm goodbye before heading off. Lupin entered the office further, shutting the door behind him.

"It's good to see you, Remus," Gareth said. He didn't move around from his desk and despite his smile there was still a hint of wariness to his gaze. "You want to sit down?"

Lupin shook his head, moving around the desk, taking Gareth's face in both hands, and kissing him hard. He was good with words—getting published was evidence of that—but he knew that sometimes actions spoke so much louder and said so much more, so he let his actions speak for him now. Gareth whimpered and kissed him back, clutching at him, and Lupin shifted his hands to wrap one arm around the other man, pulling him close and deepening the kiss.

Eventually the broke apart, though Lupin kept Gareth pulled close, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes closed as he just revelled in having the man in his arms again.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" Gareth murmured. He had one hand buried in Lupin's hair, fingers carding through the salt-and-pepper strands, while the other clutched at the edge of the desk that, at some point during the kiss, he'd ended up propped against.

"Mostly."

"Only mostly."

Lupin hummed an agreement. "I love you, Gareth, and I'm willing to give you another chance, but you did betray my trust."

"Do you want to punish me?"

Lupin opened his eyes, drawing his head back so he could look Gareth's face over properly. "You probably deserve it."

"I do," Gareth agreed with a solemness that didn't fool Lupin for an instant. "And what better place to punish a bad boy than in a school?"

"Is that a fantasy of yours? As soon as the kids go home, it's your turn to be the _bad boy_?"

"I'm always a bad boy."

"Maybe I should punish you then. Maybe I should bend you over this desk and spank you."

Gareth shifted against Lupin, licking his lips, hand clenching in his hair. "Is that all you're going to do to me over this desk... professor?"

"We'll have to see, Mr Martin. It really depends how bad of a boy you've been."

"I've been _really_ bad, professor."

Lupin couldn't say he'd ever considered himself in a teacher-student roleplay (well alright, there had been that really hot Defence teacher in his sixth year, but he'd never imagined himself as the teacher back then and it wouldn't exactly have been roleplaying if any of those fantasies did come true), but he couldn't deny that he was feeling the appeal of it now. It could have just been Gareth, the man was exceptionally good at getting Lupin in the mood for just about anything, but he didn't care either way. Gareth was clearly eager, and they had several months of not seeing each other to make up for.

"Well then," Lupin said, pressing himself against Gareth as he reached around and swept the mess from the desk and onto the floor, just barely noticing an ink pot as it went down and catching it to set on the chair instead, "if you've been that terrible, Mr Martin, I have no choice but to punish you."

* * *

Harry, Tori, and Theo went to Lynott Manor for a few days. The nest had calmed down; Ravella, the vampire Harry had met in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, was assigned as the new butler; and the house was more like normal again, except that Gabriel was in a dark mood. He tried to hide it, which only served to make Harry and Tori certain that it was related to their trip. He didn't say anything, but he clearly still wasn't happy about them going away and Lorna was the one stopping him from changing his mind about the whole thing.

Harry didn't speak to him much. He thought about bringing up the Animancupium on Gareth, but in the end decided not to. He still loved his father, that hadn't changed at all, but he viewed him as far less perfect than he used to. Even though Gareth considered having Gabriel for a Master a good thing, even though Harry understood his reasoning, he still couldn't help thinking a little badly of Gabriel for doing it anyway. He'd read enough stories to know that teenagers often became disenchanted with their parents, but he doubted any of them did so after finding that their father magically enslaved someone.

Lorna had bought them all special hiking backpacks. They had a space with an Undetectable Expansion Charm on it, so they could take as much as they wanted and have room for stuff they might buy on the trip, while other parts were uncharmed for easy storage of things they'd needed to get at quickly. Tori repeatedly packed and unpacked, unable to decide what to take with her. Harry and Theo just tossed in some clothes, essentials, and a few personal bits they wanted with them. Harry also had to explain to Samantha that he was going away for a while and she would have to let his parents feed her. She didn't mind as long as she did get fed and got to leave the terrarium occasionally to have a slither about; the vampires had never bothered her.

Lorna and Gabriel took them down to the town house in London almost a week after the end of term and Gabriel finally spoke about the trip. He gave Harry and Tori a two-way mirror and a Muggle mobile phone and insisted they contact home at least every other day.

"You miss one call, we're coming after you and the trip's over."

"Dad—" Tori started to object, but he cut her off.

"That's my rules, Tori. I'm reluctant enough about this whole trip as it is; I want to know you're safe."

"We'll call," Harry promised. Anything to keep Gabriel happy and make sure he didn't change his mind; a call every two days was fine. He did think it was a bit ridiculous when Lorna added, "We want Anita and Theo to learn our phone number by heart, as well," but still didn't object. If this was what it took to get his trip, then so be it.

They also gave Harry the key to the Potter vault in Gringotts. It had barely a fraction of the Valentine fortune and they'd given Harry and Tori plenty of money, but because the Valentines didn't trust goblins the two teens were carrying around a lot of cash, which came with the obvious risk of theft or loss, as did the Muggle cash and emergency credit card they had. But Gringotts and Galleons were international and Harry was to carry the key on a chain around his neck at all times; if there was an emergency, they would still be able to get some money out.

The morning after coming down to London, they said goodbye to their parents, and Ada drove them and Theo across town to pick Anita up from her house. They spent half an hour inside, which seemed to reassure Mrs Darzi that Harry, Tori, and Theo were all sensible and weren't going to lead her daughter astray on some wild trip with lots of drinking, drugs, and sex. Not that she expressed such fears specifically, but it was the impression Harry got.

Then they left, made their way to Dover, and within three hours they were on a boat to France, free of all adult supervision. Their trip was beginning in northern France, which even Harry and Tori hadn't seen as their summer home was in the south, and Anita had never been on a boat and wanted to begin the trip with something new so they were taking a ferry to Calais. Their passports were still valid—magical passports were enchanted with a charm that made them appear like Muggle ones to any non-magical person.

"This is it," Anita said excitedly as they stood on deck, watching the cliffs of Dover disappear. "The world is ours."

"Really?" Theo said. "It's only Europe."

"It's the start," Anita replied. "From here we have everything."

Theo just looked at her and shook his head.

It took just over an hour and a half to cross the channel. They spent some time exploring the boat, watching the waves, and just relaxing. In Calais, they headed for Ruevolant, France's equivalent of Diagon Alley, which moved around the country and appeared in a different city every day of the week. On Fridays, it was in Calais.

"You guys have been before, haven't you?" Anita asked Harry and Tori as they walked. They had a tourist's guide to France, which told wizards where to find the street, and it was only a couple of miles from the ferry port.

They nodded and Tori said, "It's better than Diagon Alley."

"Is it just shops or is there anything interesting in it?" Theo asked.

"It's older than Diagon Alley," Harry said. "It's got a lot of history. Dad told us some before but I never paid much attention."

"Alright, lets go. But what about our hotel? We have a room for tonight, don't we?"

"Two," Harry confirmed, "at a Muggle hotel opposite where Ruevolent appears."

Ruevolent was fronted by a tourist office, although to Muggles it appeared to be an empty shop awaiting refurbishment. The hotel opposite wasn't big, just a privately run B&B, and they checked in there first so they could dump their bags, Harry and Theo in one room, Anita and Tori next door.

While there, Harry put a Translation Charm on Anita and Theo so they could understand what was going on around them without needing Harry and Tori to translate. Seventeen as the magical age of majority was international, but Harry's exception also applied. The various magical governments wouldn't pick up his spell casting, but if anyone saw him using magic and took issue he had a official letter from the Ministry to present and a special observations mark stamped in his passport. (To Muggles, it said that he was an emancipated minor.)

They spent the afternoon exploring Ruevolent, took dinner at a restaurant, and slept the nervous sleep of the excited. The next day they used the Floo at the travel office to go to Amiens, a place rich in Muggle and magical history where they spent the day before moving on to Paris. They stayed in the capital for a week, seeing the sights, investigating the magical quarter, and spending a couple of days in Disneyland, which Tori claimed wasn't enough, but Theo still wasn't a fan of theme parks and they had an entire continent to explore yet.

They explored Brittany then stopped by Bordeaux on the way down to Spain, where they visited Bilboa and then some old Roman structures in the north-west and the Cíes Islands, which had beaches that all four of them agreed where so gorgeous they stayed an extra day before heading for Madrid. Theo even let Harry put a Concealing Charm on his scars so he could sunbathe and swim without being self-conscious, and Anita was especially happy—she met a pretty Spanish girl that she spent most of an afternoon with.

Madrid proved as exciting as many travel guides advertised, although they skipped out on bullfights and bull running. They met a group of American Muggle teens, slightly older than them, who were also taking a trip around Europe, and got invited to a park party the Americans had heard about.

Harry was a touch hesitant about it; a big party of teenagers, many of whom were a couple of years older than the four English ones, struck him as the kind of thing that begged for trouble. He hated to sound like a stick in the mud, but he couldn't forget that the rest of his world trip hinged on the good behaviour of _all_ of them on this trip. But Anita and Tori were so excited, and even Theo seemed keen, so he kept his concerns to himself and just intended to make sure nothing bad happened.

But it went alright. There were _a lot_ of kids there and it was impossible for him to keep track of his friends in it. He was completely unsurprised to catch sight of Theo sharing a joint with a group, he saw Anita dancing and laughing, and he had to turn away from Tori making out with a boy who was getting very handsy.

He spent most of the party with an American girl called Amy who was fascinated by his accent. She sat beside him next to a pond and plied him with questions, eager to keep him talking. She inevitably asked about his scars, which he blamed on a rabid dog again, and seemed to find him worthy of utmost sympathy.

"It's just totally unfair," she said. "Such a cute guy having such a hard life."

He flushed and looked down in surprise at the fingers stroking his arm. "Um, t-thanks, I guess."

"No one ever told you you're cute before?"

"Well, no. Y'know, with my... my face... people don't..."

"They're stupid people," Amy said as he trailed off. "You're totes adorable, especially the accent. All the guys I went to school with were such jerks."

"There were some jerks at my school."

"You're not one of them, I bet."

"I don't think so," he said modestly, and was surprised when she kissed his cheek. He turned to look at her and the next kiss fell on his lips, and he felt hands creeping around his waist.

It felt... not bad, exactly. The kiss was at least as good as the kisses he'd shared with Theo in the past, there was the definite impression that the hands trying to worm under his shirt could feel really nice, and a part of him was hugely flattered because no one had ever tried to feel him up before... but he didn't want it. He just wasn't interested.

Getting her off proved harder than expected, however. He didn't want to hurt her, but his hands on her shoulders didn't seem to be doing the trick and when he managed to break the kiss and say, "Please stop," she just rubbed her cheek against his and murmured, "Why would you want to stop? Aren't you having fun?"

"Uh... the party? Yeah, I guess, but I'm not interested in... this."

That at least made her pause and draw back to look him in the face. "Not interested?" she repeated, baffled.

"It's nothing personal," he said quickly, vividly reminded of Daphne Greengrass in third year and hoping this went better than that. "I'm just not... interested. In general. In... this stuff."

"You mean making out," Amy said bluntly. "You're not interested in making out?"

"Yeah. I mean no, I'm not interested."

There was a moment's pause then she laughed and started kissing his neck again. "Good one, Harry. Your almost had me there, but I gotta say your Englishman's sense of humour isn't that cool."

He didn't try to convince her otherwise. He'd come to realise that there were a lot of people who just couldn't understand that there were people who didn't care about sex, or refused to. They considered it a base human necessity and that everyone must be attracted to _someone_. With a girl he'd known barely a couple of hours, he wasn't going to waste time trying to convince her otherwise so he opened his mouth to tell her he was gay, but someone else spoke before he could.

"Amy!"

Amy drew back and Harry gave a sigh of relief, looking up gratefully at the boy who'd just approached them, another one of the Americans. Amy scowled at him.

"Fuck off, Jasper. Just 'cause you're jealous I won't hook up with you."

The boy grinned, hooking a thumb through his belt loop as he looked down at the two of them, a beer in his other hand. "Hey, it's no skin off my bones if you want to get done for stat. rape."

Harry knew what rape was and wanted to say that that hadn't been happening—at least, he didn't intend to let that happen—but he wasn't sure what stat. rape was so he couldn't say for sure that it wasn't happening. Amy frowned up at Jasper.

"What are you talking about, Jasper? He's our age, he's finished school."

Jasper's grin widened. "Yeah? You know what age they finish school in England?"

Amy hesitated, glancing at Harry. "Uh... how old _are_ you?"

"Sixteen at the end of the month."

It was like he'd suddenly announced he had ebola. She flung herself away from him, scrambling to her feet and cursing. Jasper laughed and Harry stood, a little confused even as glad as he was that she was no longer interested in him.

"Shit, Harry, I thought you were like seventeen at least. That's the age back home, but fifteen is too young even in Spain. And it's a three year difference! I'm like a paedophile!"

Harry bristled slightly at the implication of that—he was five foot eight and shaving nearly every day, he wasn't a _child!_ —but didn't get chance to object because she hurried away. Jasper was still grinning even as he took a swig from his beer.

"Sorry, kid," he said to Harry, "but you didn't look that into it anyway."

"I wasn't, but I'm not a _kid_. I'm only a month from the age of consent in England and here in Spain."

"Yeah, but still. It's the law, y'know? And there was this whole big deal back home last year with one of the seniors sleeping with his junior girlfriend, and her parents found out and he was arrested for stat. rape and got a record and put on the paedo list and everything, so now everyone's really careful about the whole age thing."

"Right," said Harry, who wasn't sure he understood half of what Jasper just said. "Uh, what's stat. rape anyway?"

"Statutory rape? It's when someone has sex with someone who's underage."

"You mean child abuse?"

Jasper shook his head. "Well, sometimes, yeah, but also when an underage teen has sex. Even if they agree to it, the law says they're too young to give proper consent; thus, rape. Don't they have this in England?"

"I don't know. Probably, but no one ever mentioned it to me."

"I'm not that surprised. I mean, half the people at our school had no idea about it until the assembly last year. But," he added, "if you did want to hook up with someone, you're the dude so you probably don't need to worry about it. No one ever accuses chicks of that sort of thing unless it's like some teacher seducing students or something."

"Oh. Right. I think I'll wait."

Jasper shrugged and finished his beer. "Fair enough. So, you're fifteen and you finished school? That's like... a thing in England, isn't it? Like you finish school at sixteen and doing the next two years is optional or something?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, accompanying him over to where the drinks were and taking some lemonade while Jasper grabbed another beer, "but loads of people do the next two years and the... the community I'm part of is one that puts a lot of emphasis on doing those extra two years. You really need the, uh... A Levels to get a good job, but you can manage with just GCSEs."

"Yeah? Alright for some, I guess. We have to do until eighteen no matter what. Stop before that and you're a drop out. Nothing but flippin' burgers and sellin' gas after that. So how come you're not doing any levels?"

"A Levels. I actually already have three. I took them early."

"Oh yeah? Genius, are you?"

Harry grinned self-consciously, but shrugged. "In those, yeah, sort of."

Jasper snorted. "Sort of. Anyone who takes their exams early is a genius in my book. What subjects?"

That stumped Harry a moment and he had to quickly think of what subjects Muggles took at secondary school; it wasn't like there were any simple equivalents of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration. Then inspiration hit. "Italian, French, and Greek."

" _Ohh_ , language buff, huh?" Jasper said, sounding a little more interested.

"Not really. My parents speak them—my dad speaks like fifty different languages, actually—and we have holiday homes in those three countries so me and my sister are fluent in them."

"That's pretty cool. Fifty languages? Really?"

Harry grinned. "I don't know for sure, but he does say that he knows enough to go to any country in the world and be able to manage without a translator."

"Must be smart. My dad can barely speak English let alone anything else. No, I tell a lie, he's fluent in Asshole."

Harry laughed and he spent the rest of the night chatting with Jasper, who seemed pretty cool. They discussed their trips—the Americans were going in the opposite direction, heading for northern France next and then over to Germany while Harry's group were doing the south of France and then Italy—and Harry heard all about Jasper's plans for the future. He was going to university to study art history at the end of the summer and then become an art dealer for his mother's gallery, and he planned to marry his girlfriend as soon as he was settled into the job, buy a house, and have two, maybe three, kids by the time they were thirty-five.

"Got your whole life planned, huh?" Harry said, trying not to let his drooping mood show.

"Best way to do it if you ask me," Jasper told him. "Gives you something to work to, y'know? Otherwise you risk just drifting and ending up in some shitty job you hate and no real purpose in life. Know your dreams and follow 'em, y'know? Can't go wrong with that. You got a dream in life?"

"This is my dream."

"What, Spain?"

"This trip. I'm doing the world after Europe. Taking a year to see it all."

"That's cool, but what about after? What about the rest of your life?"

Harry, not really sure why, answered quietly, "This is the rest of my life."

Jasper paused with his beer half raised. They sat on a bench, the area delegated as the dance floor to their right and a patch of flowers in front of them. They made Harry think of home and Gabriel's rose garden even though there wasn't a single rose in sight.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm dying," Harry told him, still not sure why he was saying all this. "I'm... I have this... thing in my head."

"Like a tumour?"

"Yeah. And they can't fix it or take it out or anything, so I only have about eighteen months left to live."

"Shit. That seriously sucks, man, I'm sorry."

Harry shrugged, smiling slightly. "Thanks. I've known for a while though and I've accepted it."

"So this is like... your farewell tour, huh?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well I hope you enjoy it, man. Make the most of what you've got left, y'know."

* * *

They spent a few more days in Spain before heading back towards France. Tori insisted they spend a couple of nights at their summer home just outside of Carcassonne. She was in a weird mood for those few days and even turned down coming to Toulouse for a day, preferring to stay home by herself but insisting she was fine and nothing was wrong.

Harry didn't mention it to his parents when he called them; it might be enough 'trouble' for Gabriel to decide they couldn't manage and refuse his world trip or even cancel the rest of this one, and they'd already offered to come down briefly while the four of them were in the summer home and Harry didn't want that. Besides, when he pushed Tori on what was wrong, just in case it was serious, she irritably told him it was 'girl problems' and he didn't ask again.

They went briefly into Switzerland before Italy. They spent several days in Venice, which Theo fell in love with, then Florence, Rome, Pompeii, and Naples, where they again stayed at the Valentine summer home and arrived to find four letters from the British Ministry's Department of Education—their OWL results. They opened them nervously, the kitchen silent as each of them focused on their own letter as it unfolded.

 _ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_

 _Pass Grades:  
Outstanding (O)  
Exceeds Expectations (E)  
Acceptable (A)_

 _Fail Grades:  
Poor (P)  
Dreadful (D)  
Troll (T)_

 _HARRY JAMES POTTER-VALENTINE HAS ACHIEVED:_

 _Ancient Runes: E  
Arithmancy: A  
Astronomy: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Divination: D  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: A  
Muggle Studies: O  
Potions: O_

He was happily surprised by the O in Potions, wondered how close he scraped the A in Astronomy (which he expected to fail), and didn't care about the D in Divination. Overall, he was pleased with the results.

Everyone else did well, too. Tori and Theo got an O in everything, much to their delight, and Anita got passing grades in everything, even an A in Divination, and they went to an expensive restaurant to celebrate.

They were almost two weeks in Italy. Harry and Tori were familiar with the high magical history of the place, Theo was fascinated by it all, and even Anita was intrigued. Gabriel, even after all these years, still tended to think of himself as a Roman and he'd told Harry and Tori tons of stories from his time as human. The Roman Empire had been just as magical as Muggle; the Army had had an entire legion of wizards, which Gabriel had been part of, and yet since the rise of Christianity Italy had since dropped to have the second highest ratio of Muggles-to-wizards in not only Europe but the whole world. The only place with fewer wizards was Spain.

From Italy they went to Athens, Kastoria, and Thessaloniki in Greece, then Istanbul in Turkey, where they were for Harry's birthday. After that they headed up through eastern and central Europe, and spent a week in Budapest, which had one of the lowest Muggle-to-wizard ratios in the world. There were signs of magic even in the Muggle areas—shops had staircases to second floors that weren't visible from the outside, people wore robes and spoke of magic with less cautiousness than they did back home, and the entrance to the magic-only part of the city was just an alley off one of the streets, with a few spells to trick Muggles into walking past.

It was a beautiful city, Harry's favourite for the whole trip, the history of the place appealed to Theo, there was plenty of social life for Tori to enjoy, and it had plenty of everything for Anita, who just liked anything vaguely interesting. Like the House of Honesty.

No one was certain how it came to be—some legends said the house had been cursed by a powerful wizard, some said it was the result of a potion explosion, some said it was touched by gods—but whatever happened, the house forced honesty from anyone who stepped inside, even more strongly than Veritaserum or truth spells. It was impossible to tell a lie within the walls and there were even parts where the magic was so strong that you were compelled to talk, to reveal your deepest secrets and unspoken thoughts.

They went to see it, but none of them would have gone inside even if it was allowed. Harry didn't want it forcing him to mention his demon deal in Tori and Theo's presence, nor the feelings he had for Theo still, and he guessed the others had secrets they wanted to keep as well.

Seeing it, it was almost hard to believe the stories were true; it looked just like a normal small manor on the outskirts of the city. The area was enchanted to keep Muggles away, but for wizards it was a tourist spot, although entry was highly restricted. The only people allowed in were authorized academics trying to figure out what the caused the truthfulness, and even they didn't stay in it for long. They said too long in the house and the effects would last, keeping you honest even after you left, and there were stories that some people who stayed in there too long went mad.

"Is it just me, or is there _a lot_ of security here?" Theo said as they viewed the house. The grounds were unaffected by the curse so the gardens had become the main tourist spot and even had a small cafe selling overpriced sandwiches and coffee.

"Maybe they get a lot of people trying to sneak in," Harry said, but there did seem to be an excessive amount of navy-clad guards pacing the outside of the house and eying the tourists distrustfully.

"It's not just that." They turned. They were sitting outside the cafe and a middle-aged woman at the next table leant over. "Things happen."

Harry was a little surprised that her voice lacked the faint buzz that indicated the translation charms on his ears was working, a sort of background whir that he found extremely annoying, but there were a lot of foreign tourists in the country so she could easily be another English tourist. He had a similar charm on his tongue that translated his own words, but that one he had to change with each country to match whatever language they needed to speak. Harry didn't like it; it left a faintly metallic taste in his mouth whenever he spoke, so he was glad for the times when he could speak English, French, Italian, or Greek.

"Things?" Anita repeated, eying the woman. She was unremarkable looking, dressed in plain grey robes, hair a dirty blonde, slightly overweight.

"Oh yes," she said. "People wake up inside the house with no idea how they got there—the place is charmed against Apparition and portkeys—and sometimes it's entire families. They say the house locks down until the people inside reveal things they've been hiding from each other."

"Why would someone do that?" Theo asked sceptically.

"Who says it's some _one_?" the lady replied. "The victims all say they never saw what took them, but they're aware of a powerful presence, like a demon or a god."

Theo scoffed. "Why would a demon or a god do that? What do they care if a handful of humans are honest with each other or not? It's ridiculous."

The woman didn't seem deterred. "Some think it's the house itself summoning them, recognising people with secrets that need to be let out."

"What happened to the people?" Tori asked. "They got out afterwards?"

"Most of them. Some of them commit suicide rather than speak the truth. Others come out and then kill themselves. One woman killed her husband and herself. Some people think he cheated on her, but others..."

"Others...?" Tori prompted, sounding surprisingly interested.

"Well, put it this way: they say the couple's two daughters weren't very broken up about their father's death."

When the woman had moved away, Tori asked, "Do you think that's true?"

"No," Theo answered immediately. "It's crap stories to scare the tourists."

"The whole thing's intriguing though," Harry said. "There's no spell in the world that could do what this house does and—"

"Is that your expert sixteen year old opinion?" Tori asked mockingly.

"Excuse me, but which one of us got a NEWT in Charms at the age of twelve?"

"That makes you a smartarse, it doesn't make you an expert. No one knows _every_ spell in the world," she said dismissively, and Harry felt Anita looking at him, "and this place is centuries old. The spell put on it might be long forgotten, lost to time."

"Yeah, well, I still think it must be something more than that. Maybe it was gods or demons."

"I'm not sure I believe in gods."

"I definitely don't," Theo said.

"Atheists," Anita muttered derisively.

Harry said nothing. Since his conversation with Gareth at his career advice meeting, he wasn't sure about gods. Gareth sounded pretty sure about them and Gareth had had a lot of time to learn these things, but Harry wasn't sure he _believed_ in gods, as such. That would be like believing in vampires—they existed, it was a fact, but Harry wasn't going to start making a religion out of them. If Gareth was right about gods existing because other people believed in them, then fair enough, but if everyone else stopped and it was up to Harry to keep the gods alive through his belief... then he had a feeling they might become extinct.

"And I'm not sure demons would curse a house to force people to tell the truth," Tori went on. "Demons are all about pain and agony."

"They do say the truth hurts," Anita pointed out, "and if the stories about this house are true then it's caused quite a bit of pain and suffering."

"Maybe..."

"I think it's probably just spells gone wrong," Theo said with finality, "and I don't believe those stories."

* * *

"This is your fault."

"How is it _my_ fault?"

"You said you didn't believe! The house heard you! It came after us!"

"Bullshit! Someone drugged us and kidnapped us."

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry snapped, straightening up from his inspection of the doors and turning to face Tori and Theo, and he wasn't sure whether they heard the fear in his voice or just responded to the harsh tone, but they shut up. "We're stuck. I can't open this door and I can't break it."

"Neither can I," Anita murmured to him, looking worried in the light of the candelabra above their heads and giving Harry a significant look that meant she'd tried her demonic powers.

They were in a second floor sitting room, just after midnight, and the view told them they were in the House of Honesty, the large bay windows looking out over the garden they'd been in just that morning. They could see a couple of guards about the place, roaming the grounds, but no amount of banging had drawn their attention and Harry's attempt to send a Patronus message had failed, the silvery crow dispersing as it hit the wall.

He was the only one with a wand; they had been just chilling together in their hotel across the city when they suddenly disappeared and reappeared in this room, and the others didn't have their wands in hand, while Harry's had been at his hip as always. He also tried Apparating and making a portkey, but neither of them worked.

"So we're stuck here until someone finds us or we starve to death?" Theo said. "Great."

"Or until we tell the truth," Tori said. "That's what the stories say. You tell the truth, the house lets you go."

"The house isn't sentient. It doesn't know when we tell the truth."

"It might," Harry said. He was starting to believe the stories. Whatever magic was on this building, it was immensely powerful and way beyond even his extensive spellwork. He was starting to believe the idea that maybe gods had had a hand in things.

Theo threw up his hands in frustration and turned away, going to the window.

"What truths?" Anita asked. "My name's Anita Darzi, I'm sixteen years old, and I'm a Sikh. That's all true."

Tori shook her head. "It's secrets. Hidden truths."

"I'm not telling you guys my secret," Theo said abruptly, turning to face them again, arms folded over his chest and shoulders tense. "If I wanted you to know, they wouldn't be secrets."

An idea struck Harry, who felt unusually keen to discuss his demon deal and was remembering the stories about a room that compelled you to reveal your secrets. "Hey, maybe the truths only have to be said, not heard. I can put a spell on us to make us all temporarily deaf. We say our secrets, the house lets us go, no one's any the wiser."

They all glanced at each other then nodded. "We cover our mouths as well," Theo said. "So no lip reading."

"Agreed," Harry said. He pressed his wand to his ear and said clearly, " _Onfuaim_ ," and then did the same to the other ear and utter silence fell around him. He did Anita's ears next, but as he was doing her left he saw Tori jump out of the corner of his eye. She was glaring at Theo and when Harry looked, the other boy was standing over a smashed vase at the other side of the room.

"Testing," he said, mouthing the world clearly. Harry rolled his eyes and got back to work, silencing all their ears.

When it was done, they stood in a circle, unsure, and Theo started, lifting his hand to cover his mouth and, presumably, talking. Harry, Tori, and Anita followed suit. The only secrets Harry had were his feelings for Theo and his demon deal, but whatever Tori's secret was it was short enough that she was the first to lower her hand, then Anita, then Harry, and finally Theo. All of them together like that, Harry couldn't help wondering what secrets the other were keeping. What was his sister hiding from him and did their parents know it? What did Theo not want his best friend to know? What did Anita, who knew Harry's darkest secret, want to keep hidden?

When they were done, Harry removed the spells from their ears and their tried the door—to no effect.

"It didn't work."

"Of course it didn't."

They spun, Harry raising his wand defensively as the others scrambled to his side. Across the room, beside the stone pedestal on which used to stand the vase that Theo broke, stood the middle-aged woman from this morning. Only now she wore white robes and a golden cloak and something about her just seemed to... _glow_. The word 'ethereal' immediately came to Harry's mind.

" _You_ kidnapped us?" Theo demanded. "Don't think I won't have you arrested for this!"

"I'm sure you won't have me arrested," she said calmly. "I am a goddess. No one can arrest me."

"You're delusional, that's what you are. Let us out!"

"When you've revealed the truth, then you can leave."

"We spoke the truth."

"Yes, but you didn't reveal it. The truth must be known, Theodore, or else what good does it serve?"

"How do you know my name?"

"I told you, I am a goddess."

"Of what?" Tori asked. "Prove it."

The woman smiled. "Of truth, of course. My name is Veritas."

"That's one of Dad's gods. Roman."

"What's a Roman god doing in Budapest?" Harry said.

"She's not a god!" Theo cried. "They don't exist."

Veritas ignored him. She drummed her fingers on the pedestal beside her. "This is made from stone taken from my temple. It's all that's left of it and it's why I can imbue this house with such power. There aren't many people who believe in me anymore, even people like your father, Victoria, but belief is power and it soaks into the stones of buildings. Tearing those buildings down doesn't stop that power existing, so when my stone was brought here I followed. I still had some power, and as the stories spread and grew and more people came to see this magical house, so grew my power. People are believing in me again, even if the don't realise it."

She stepped forward and they all tensed, but Harry had no idea what spells could help him here. He didn't know anything specific for a god and he wasn't sure even the most powerful shield charm would protect them from a deity. Even the Killing Curse might not work against her, and killing a god felt wrong, anyway.

"Harry, do something!" Theo demanded as Veritas approached.

"Do what? She's a goddess!"

Theo growled angrily and snatched the wand from Harry, the strap forcing him to stand close, but Veritas vanished in a blink.

"Where'd she go?" Tori said nervously, looking around.

"She's not a god," Anita said, but there was a hint of nerves in her voice too. "She can't be. There's only one god."

"There's many more than that."

Anita yelped, Tori shrieked, and Theo dropped the wand as he and Harry spun, staggering away. Veritas now stood between them and the door. Harry snatched up his wand again.

"There are as many gods as people believe in, Anita. Your god exists, but so do all the others."

Anita shook her head, but said nothing, eyes wide.

"You're lying," Theo spat. "There are _no gods!_ You're just a witch with delusions of grandeur."

"Lying? In this place?"

"It's just stories!"

"Is it?" she said softly, approaching him. Harry thrust his wand over Theo's shoulder.

" _Protego!_ " A silver-blue shield appeared before them and Veritas stopped. "Stay back or I'll do worse."

She smiled, disappeared again, then a hand landed on Harry's shoulder. Rather than react, he felt suddenly stuck in place, shaking from head to toe but not moving his wand or trying to get away, not even turning his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a head dip down on the other side of Theo and heard the susurration of a whisper. He couldn't make out the words, but he saw the blood drain from Theo's face and heard him whimper, then the hand left Harry's shoulder and he staggered, spinning, searching for Veritas.

"Theo?"

"It's true," he said, voice cracking. "S-she's a god."

Harry turned to him, concerned. Theo was pale as a ghost and trembling. "What did she say to you, Theo? What did she do? Are you okay?"

"S-she knows. She knows something that I've never told anyone."

Harry swallowed thickly, lowering his wand but not letting go of it. "Then we have to tell? We... we have to say our secrets?"

Theo nodded. Harry had never seen him look so scared.

"But what secret?" Anita said. "Because I've got more than one, and some of them are only secret from most people. I have one that Harry knows but no one else does. Am I meant to tell that one to you two?"

"The stories all say your deepest secret," Tori said. "So the one that no one knows."

"But I don't have one," Harry said, finally letting go of his wand and letting it settle against this hip again. "My biggest secret is one Anita already knows about." Tori looked surprised and slightly offended, and Harry felt the need to add defensively, "It's something from before Mum and Dad adopted me."

"It's not that," Theo said. "It's not about who knows it and who doesn't, it's about the truths you're not saying because you don't want to admit them maybe even to yourself. The stuff you're scared or angry about."

"How do you know that?"

"I... don't know. But I'm sure it's right."

They all looked at one another, unsure what to do and no one wanting to be the first to break and reveal their secret, but then Tori said, "Look, I know none of us _want_ to talk, but... doesn't anyone else feel like..."

"Like it's trying to get out," Anita finished for her. "Like it wants to be spoken."

"Yeah."

"I do too," Harry admitted. The words sat at the front of his mind and the tip of his tongue and the effort not to say them sent a thrum of energy through his body, almost painful. They all looked at Theo.

"I'm not saying it," he said stubbornly, but he still looked frightened. "I don't care how much it wants to get out, I'm not saying it. I swore I'd never tell anyone."

"But you're the one that said—"

"I thought I was pregnant."

Harry's jaw dropped, gaping at his sister while the other two turned to stare as well. Tori clapped her hands over her mouth, looking outraged at herself. She shook slightly, as if fighting something inside her, then she jerked her hands down and blurted out, "I had sex with Tyler on the night of the OWLs party. My period was late and at first I just thought it was because the trip knocked my routine but it was even later and I thought I might be pregnant so I took a test when we were in Carcassonne."

Harry was still gaping. Tori looked embarrassed and angry, staring at the floor with a few tears in her eyes. Anita cleared her throat in the ensuing silence.

"I'm guessing you're not actually."

Tori shook her head. Harry snapped his mouth shut, swallowed, and went over to hug her. "It's okay." She hugged him back, pressing her face to his shoulder and sniffling slightly. "Did you tell Mum and Dad?"

"No," she said, voice muffled slightly. "I was too scared. I don't think Dad would be happy with me if I really was pregnant at sixteen."

"I don't think he'd get mad with you. Mum definitely wouldn't."

Her grip tightened around him. "She would," she muttered, voice even quieter and Harry suspected the other two couldn't hear her now. "She would because for a moment... for a moment I thought that if I was then... then I'd get rid of it."

"What?!"

"I know!" she wailed, pulling away, tears spilling down her face now. "I'm horrible, but I thought about having a baby and it terrified me. I know Mum's always said abortion is evil and I have too, but when I actually really thought I was pregnant, I understood why some people might do it and I don't know if maybe it isn't really as bad as Mum says."

This, Harry thought, was the real secret. Tori was having with Lorna what Harry had had with Gabriel—this realisation that maybe their views of the world weren't the same, that their parents could believe different things than they did, that their parents could be _wrong_. He thought it was worse for her. Harry had learnt from the Dursleys, from Lucius Malfoy, from Voldemort, that adults could be wrong and that the world wasn't an easy place of black and white, but Tori had been a pampered, slightly sheltered child who grew up believing everything her parents said was right and anyone that disagreed was wrong. Sure, there were the teen arguments about drinking and partying and this trip, but nothing so fundamental as what she was experiencing now.

And then there was the simple fact that she'd thought of doing something that went against her own basic morals and now had re-examine her whole world view.

"It's okay, Tori," he said again, conjuring a tissue for her. "It doesn't make you a bad person for thinking that."

She sniffed, looking at him in surprise as she took the tissue. "You don't think I'm evil for thinking of having an abortion?"

"No. I..." He shrugged. "I guess I never really believed it like you do. When Mum said it was wrong I accepted it as fact, but I never gave it any more thought and now I've actually heard of someone I know wanting to do it, I don't care. If it's what you think would have been best for you, I'd have been fine with that."

She hugged him again, tightly. "Thanks, Harry."

There was a rattle, then a curse, and they broke apart to look around and see Theo trying the door again. When he saw them looking questioningly, he said grumpily, "I thought it might open if just one of us told a secret."

"I really wish it had," Anita said. "Not all our secrets a minor moral dilemmas."

"Hey, this isn't _minor_!" Tori objected, glaring at her. "I was nearly pregnant!"

"Yeah, _nearly_ , so your little breakdown over abortions is completely irrelevant. When you're _actually_ pregnant, then you can bitch about it. Some of us have _real_ secrets to keep."

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"Like k-" She broke off, smacking a hand over her mouth so hard it must have hurt. She glared at Tori, who smirked.

"It's got to come out eventually," she said smugly. "Otherwise we're all stuck in here forever."

Anita just shook her head and didn't move her hand.

"Damnit, this is stupid!" Harry said. "Okay, I..." He made a wordless noise of reluctance, put a hand over his eyes so he didn't have to see anything, and muttered, "I think I'm in love with Theo."

Silence followed his statement and he didn't dare lower his hand and open his eyes to see their faces. He hoped it was the right secret to say. Anita knew about his deal and it was something he'd accepted about himself, so it wasn't a deep dark kind of secret, just one he kept from a few people. But Tori didn't _really_ know Harry was in love with Theo, she only knew that he'd thought he fancied Theo last year and that wasn't the same.

And he really, really hoped Theo wasn't going to hate him. At least most of their trip was nearly over by now—it was ten days into August and Tori and Theo wanted to be home by the twenty-fifth so they would have time to prepare for school—so if this revelation ruined the friendship between him and Theo then they wouldn't spoil the whole trip.

Then, to his great surprise, someone kissed him. Theo. He dropped his hand but didn't open his eyes, instead clutching at Theo's robes as he pressed close to him, Theo's arms wrapping around his waist. In a way he couldn't really explain, it was different than the handful of kisses they'd shared before—more tender, more intense without being deeper, more like they were kissing because they wanted each other rather than because they just wanted a kiss.

Theo broke it, pressed his forehead to Harry's. "I think I'm in love with you too."

Harry's eyes snapped open, but Theo was too close for him to focus on anything. "I thought you didn't do love."

"Neither did I, but I think I love you and I can handle that. I've never been as close to anyone as I am to you, not even as friends. I guess that it's natural that if there was anyone I could fall in love with, it's you." Even so close, Harry could tell Theo was blushing furiously; he'd never seen Theo embarrassed before and it was almost cute. "What about you? You've always said you don't fancy people. You don't even kiss people like I do."

"Tori made me realise there's different kinds of attraction—sexual and romantic, and I don't do sexual, but I realised I was romantically attracted to you, and if I _was_ going to kiss people I only wanted to kiss someone who mattered, not just random people."

"So basically," Anita said, making them jump slightly; Harry almost forgot they weren't alone, "you've both been in love with each other but never said anything because you thought the other one wasn't in love with you."

"Pretty much," Harry confirmed, and kissed Theo again, ignoring the mutter of ' _idiots_ ' that came from both girls.

"Right," Tori said when the two boys broke apart. Harry sought out Theo's hand, linking their fingers and feeling that maybe this House of Honesty wasn't so awful after all. "Your turn, Anita. We've all shared a secret."

"I don't think being in love with Harry was Theo's big secret," Anita replied. "That's not something you get scared about. I don't believe it's what the goddess said to him."

"It's _a_ secret though. No one else knew, right?" Tori asked Theo, who nodded. "So it might be enough. Tell us one of yours."

Anita glared at all three of them. "I don't have a secret like that. I've been honest most of my life and the secrets I have kept are big ones, ones that I have good reason to keep, and it's not fair that I have to reveal one of them when no one else has. Your world view might have been turned upside down, but it's only _your_ world view, not the world's view of _you_. All they did was admit they're in love with each other and I _know_ Harry's got a bigger secret than that and I'm pretty convinced Theo does too. That's why he's shaking like that."

It was true. Next to Harry, Theo was trembling slightly, little shivers running all the way through him. Anita was the same and when Harry glanced at his free hand he noticed it tremored and the suggestion of pain from earlier had grown into a dull ache. The thought of his demon deal was at the front of his mind still, wanting to be said.

"He's still trying to keep a secret the room wants him to say. Harry is too."

"But they've said _a_ secret," Tori insisted. "For all we know, that's enough. You have to say _something_ , Anita. You don't have a choice."

"We'll keep it to ourselves," Harry promised. "Whatever is said inside this room stays here."

"That's not good enough, Harry."

"What about the Secretus Charm?" Theo suggested. "You heard of that, Harry?"

He nodded. "We cast it on the room and anything you hear in here can't be spoken to anyone outside once the charm ends. It doesn't kill us like the Unbreakable Vow, it just literally stops us speaking about anything heard while under the Secretus. You can only talk about things you knew before so we can talk about me and Theo, or Tori's thing, and you can still reveal your own secret to other people later, but you can't reveal anyone else's unless you're with the spell caster and they use the Vacatio Charm to allow you to talk. If you try, no sound will come out."

"What about writing?" Anita asked. "And that Vacatio Charm, what's that? That let's _you_ decide if they can talk?"

Harry nodded. "You can't write anything, your hand would seize up. The spell covers everything, no one can get around it, except by knowing about something before you entered the room—" he gave her a pointed look; if they spoke of their demon deals here, he could still tell other people about hers and vice versa; only Tori and Theo would be bound to silence about it "—or by the Vacatio Charm. It's a sister spell. After the Secretus Charm is done, the person who cast it can use the Vacatio Charm to let people speak about what they learnt."

"So I have to trust _you_ not to let them speak it to anyone else?"

"Yes. But seeing as we're planning to spend the next year together, I don't think you need to worry much, do you?"

Anita frowned, but said nothing.

"Isn't the Secretus Charm dark magic?" Tori asked, looking unsure. "Because it can't be broken unless the spell caster dies?"

Harry nodded. "Even if, for example, I told you a secret and then I later told someone outside the room, you guys still wouldn't be able to talk about it even to the new person without the Vacatio Charm."

"Unless you die," Theo said.

"Yes."

Theo nodded. "I don't think I'm worried about that. You've got a history of surviving things. You survived You Know Who as a baby; I think you'll live a long life."

Harry avoided his gaze.

Anita sighed. "Fine, do it, Harry. But I'm warning you all now, this is probably going to ruin our trip. You won't want me with you after you hear this."

"We'll see," Theo said. Harry let go of his hand to draw his wand, crouching and touching it to the floor and murmuring, " _Seroin scientia_."

A purple sheen rippled out from his wand tip like water and spread across the whole floor, up over the walls, and across the ceiling. When they were surrounded by a faint purple glow, he stood again.

"That's it. If you want to talk about something later on, don't mention it now. Secrets only from now on."

He, Theo, and Tori looked at Anita. She sighed, turned her back and folded her arms, and said, with audible reluctance yet also sounding as if the words were desperate to get out of her, "I murdered my father."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Shout out to guest reviewer Adam who pointed out that I mucked up the maths of the scores awarded in the TWT. I've gone and fixed that now. Thanks!

 **Chapter 29**

Anita tried to open the doors as soon as she said it, but they remained steadfastly locked and she spun around, glaring furiously at the other three teens, who had varying expressions of surprise. Harry found he wasn't as shocked as he thought he should be. He remembered wondering once if Anita had killed her dad and dismissing the thought as ridiculous; apparently it wasn't. Theo was obviously stunned, but Tori looked horrified.

"You—"

"I knew it!" Anita cried, cutting Tori off. "You guys haven't told big enough secrets!"

"You really killed your father?" Theo said. His tone wasn't condemning, more curious than anything.

Anita opened her mouth, looking as if she wanted to say something sarcastic, but then she looked surprised and said, "Apparently sarcasm counts as lying."

" _Why?_ " Tori breathed.

Anita huffed a sigh and sat down, prompting the other three to as well. "He was going to get the charges against my brother dropped."

"What charges?"

"Charges for abusing me. My dad was going to get the judge to drop them and then it was all going to start again and I couldn't let that happen so I made his heart explode."

Tori was speechless. Theo frowned.

"You made his heart explode? How old were you?"

"Eight."

Some of Tori's horror faded. "You mean it was an accident. You must have been terrified."

"I wasn't. I hated my dad from the moment he doubted it when I said my brother was hurting me. He didn't care about me, didn't care what my brother was doing, he was just concerned about losing his precious son to jail and the shame it brought on the family. He deserved to die."

Harry wondered if the others noticed that Anita avoided commenting on the accident remark, but it didn't look as if the house was forcing her to clarify and Harry wouldn't mention it.

"What did your brother do to you?" Tori asked Anita.

"I don't have to answer that."

"But the house..."

"The house just means I can't lie. But what happened to me isn't some dark secret. My mum knows and the courts know and the therapist I saw. I can't lie about what happened, but I don't have to tell you the truth either. It's not something the house is going to make me say." She inhaled deeply and let it out, looking at Harry and Theo. "It's someone else's turn. You guys still have things to say."

Harry glanced down at his hands. They were visibly shaking now with the effort of trying to say nothing about his demon deal and the pain was getting worse. Theo shook even more, but Harry noticed Anita was still a little shaky.

"You've still got something the house wants you to say."

"Yeah, but it's someone else's turn," she said stubbornly.

"Theo?" Harry said quietly.

Theo clenched his hands in his lap and stared at them, jaw clenched as he fought it, but after less than a minute he cracked. "I saw my father kill my mother." He paused while the other three looked on in stunned silence, and then went on, "He told me if I didn't tell the authorities that it was an accident, he'd kill me, too."

"Theo..."

"Don't." Theo glanced up and Harry stopped in reaching out for him.

"You could have said something when he was arrested for fraud," Tori said gently.

"What was the point? Years had passed. It couldn't bring my mother back."

"But—"

"Drop it, Tori," Theo said sharply. "This place is making me spill secrets, but it doesn't mean I have to talk about the details."

"Sorry."

There was a tense pause for a minute or two, but then Harry realised the other three were focusing their attention on him. "What?"

"I think it's your turn, Harry," Tori said. "What are you hiding?"

"You can't tell Mum and Dad."

Tori snorted. "Yeah, I can't tell anyone. What is it?"

When Harry hesitated, Anita offered, "You want me to?" but he shook his head.

"It's my secret, I should..." He sighed. He still really didn't want to say it, but the words were right there on his tongue, desperate to be said, and in the end it was easy to just let them spill out. "I sold my soul to a demon when I was seven."

"You did _what?!_ "

He didn't look across at his sister. The shakes and pain vanished now he was no longer fighting the words that wanted to get out. "I summoned a demon and I made a deal with it. I would give it my soul in exchange for knowing every single spell ever invented."

"Every... but that's impossible! No one could remember all those spells, it must be millions."

"That was part of the deal: I know all the spells ever invented and I never, ever forget them. And I got a wand."

"... your... wand." She was stunned. Harry couldn't blame her.

"But you still have your soul," Theo said and Harry finally looked up. Theo was frowning. Tori snapped her mouth shut and looked between the two boys. "My father told me about people who were Kissed by Dementors. For wizards, it leaves them almost useless. They can barely feed themselves and they don't _do_ anything, they just sit there and stare at nothing. You're not like that."

"I know. The demon didn't take my soul immediately. It takes it after ten years."

"What do you mean 'for wizards'?" Anita asked Theo.

"It doesn't affect Muggles so much, maybe because they don't have any magic, I don't know. But they can function fine without their souls, they just become sociopaths. No emotions or anything."

"How do you know that? I mean, how does your dad?"

"Who cares?" cried Tori, rocking up onto her knees and staring at Harry. "My brother sold his soul to a demon, what the hell, Harry!"

"I'm sorry, Tori, I know it must hurt, but it's done."

"So what? Y-you're just going to... get your soul sucked out... what, next year? On your birthday when you're seventeen?"

Harry rubbed at his scars. "Well, no. It's the January after. On the sixth. And I won't get Kissed by a Dementor or have my soul sucked out." He paused, dropped his voice. "I'll die."

Tori blanched and Theo sucked in a sharp breath. Anita cleared her throat.

"We'll die. I made a deal, too."

Tori and Theo looked between them and Theo was the one to speak. "You did it together?"

"One after the other," Anita said. "I did mine first. I told Harry about it."

"What did you make your deal for?"

Anita put out her hand and the wood of the floorboard in the space between the four of them rose up and contorted itself into the shape of a tulip. Tori rocked back on her heels.

"Merlin!" Theo breathed. "That's powerful."

"But you're going to die," Tori said, looking between Harry and Anita. "Both of you. You're going to die and all you get for it is being able to do a lot of magic for ten years."

"It was worth it," Anita said. "For me, it was worth it. I've never regretted what I did."

"Do you?" Tori asked Harry.

"I... I regret that I have to die, that I'm going to leave you and Mum and Dad..." he glanced at Theo, "and you... but the thought of going these last ten years without knowing all the spells I do..."

"So that's it? You just accept that you're going to _die_?"

"I've had a lot of years to come to terms with it, Tori."

"And you were never going to _tell_ us?" she cried, equal parts angry and upset now. "Mum and Dad don't know, do they? You told me not to tell them. You were just going to die without telling us?"

"I was going to tell them. I _will_ tell them, Tori! I was waiting for the right time, that's all."

"The right time to tell us you're going to die!"

She was crying now and Harry moved around to her side, hugging her and swallowing around the lump in his own throat, guilt twisting his heart. "I'm sorry, Tori."

"Isn't there a way around it?" Theo asked. He looked shaken as well, but he had since Veritas appeared. He was still trembling with the effort of fighting whatever other truths were trying to get out of him; Harry wondered how much it was hurting him. "We could kill the demon when it tries to come for you."

"It won't work," Harry said quickly, because Tori looked up hopefully at Theo's words. "The demon doesn't come for me, it sends hellhounds, and they never stop. Even if you kill one, another comes after it. They just keep coming until..."

"Until you're dead," Theo said in a dull voice that made the guilt in Harry double. He couldn't imagine how awful it would feel if he found out that Theo was going to die in a year and a half, right after learning that he loved him. To get something so wonderful only to know it would be taken away from him. And it would be—Harry was going to lose Theo just as much as Theo was going to lose him, but at least Harry had known it for longer and had time to prepare.

"Dad will do something," Tori said, clinging to Harry, pressing her face to his shoulder. "We'll tell Dad and he'll find a way to save you."

"Maybe," Harry said, but mostly for her benefit.

She pulled back, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. "I want to get out of here. Can we leave now?"

Harry and Anita glanced at Theo. He avoided their gaze and stood, going to the door and trying it, jerking hard when it refused to open. "Can't you break this down with your super magic, Anita?"

"I tried. Fake goddess trumps demon magic. You need to tell us, Theo."

Theo shook his head, his back still to them. "No, there has to be a way out of here."

"Theo—"

He spun. He was trembling violently now, eyes wide, skin slicked with sweat. "Harry, you said you know every spell ever, you've got to know a way to get us out of here, please!"

"I tried everything, Theo," Harry said, standing, worried about his friend. "Just tell us whatever it is you have left to say."

Theo shook his head, clenching his jaw tight. He tensed and backed up when Harry approached, closing his eyes, and Harry stopped just beyond arm's reach.

"Theo, it's okay," he said softly. "We won't judge you. I won't judge you. You can tell me."

He was surprised to see tears spill from beneath Theo's closed eyelids. He'd never see Theo cry, never seen him let anything get to him so badly.

"Theo, come on. I love you," he said, flushing as he said it but not stumbling on the words. "I'm your best friend. You can tell me anything."

Theo shook his head again, still not opening his eyes. "You won't, not if I tell you."

"I will. I promise, Theo, nothing you say will change how I feel about you, and I can't lie here."

"It will," he said, voice cracking. "It'll change everything, and you thinking it won't is a belief. Beliefs change. It might be true now, but it won't be afterwards."

"You have to say it, Theo," Anita told him, apologetic but firm. "We're not getting out otherwise. The rest of us have said all we have—me and Harry aren't shaking anymore. You're the only one left."

Theo tilted his head back, lips trembling, tears running down his face. Harry stepped forward and grabbed his hands. Theo didn't pull away, but he didn't respond, hands limp in Harry's grip.

"Tell me, Theo."

He held out a moment longer but then, without opening his eyes or turning his face down from the ceiling, he said, "A year after my mother died, I told my father I wasn't afraid of him anymore and I was going to tell someone what he did. I should have just done it, without warning him, I don't know why I didn't. But he..."

"What did he do, Theo?"

Theo swallowed, jerked his hands out of Harry's grip and covered his face, dropping his chin and turning to put his back to Harry. "He beat me half to death and he raped me."

Silence.

Harry swallowed the sudden fury filling him, the violent, burning hatred that made him want to break into Azkaban prison and rip Frederick Nott limb from limb, and stepped closer to Theo, putting a hand to his shoulder. Theo flinched, but didn't pull away and Harry cautiously hugged him from behind, wrapping his arms around the trembling body. There was silence from the girls, but Harry didn't care about them right now.

"I'm sorry, Theo. I'm sorry he did that to you. You didn't deserve that. That was before third year, wasn't it? That's why you ran away, why you used magic, why you came back to school all beat up."

Theo nodded, a choked sob forcing its way out of him. "A-aren't you d-disgusted with me?"

"No. I love you, still. I'm disgusted with your father, he's a monster, but not you."

Theo's knees crumpled. Harry grunted at the sudden shift in weight, but went down with him, clinging to Theo as he cried in great choking sobs, whole body shaking, hands clutching at Harry's shirt. Harry said nothing, just held onto him and rubbed his back. He glanced across the room and saw Tori crying silently, Anita's comforting arm around her shoulders. Harry had never asked the details of Anita's brother's abuse before, but he was suddenly certain that it had been sexual, because while Tori's expression was heavily pitying it wasn't like Anita's look of understanding sympathy.

Eventually Theo's sobs reduced to hiccups and he pulled away from Harry, accepting a tissue and wiping at his face, not meeting Harry's gaze. "Can we leave now? I want to get out of here."

Harry looked him over, but he wasn't trembling with suppressed secrets anymore and neither were the girls or himself. He touched his wand to the floor, muttered, " _Finis secreta,_ " then stood and tried the door. There was a collective sigh of relief when it opened, but they all tensed again when a voice spoke from near the stone pedestal.

 _"Veritas liberabit vos."_

 _The truth shall set you free._

Harry look at Theo with his red and haunted eyes, the way he wouldn't meet anyone's gaze, the absolute certainty he'd had that Harry's feelings would change and he would be disgusted with Theo, the way he'd held out for so long on speaking his secret even though it had to have been incredibly painful.

He jerked his wand up, spun towards the pedestal, and threw a curse that blasted it into dust. He doubted it would kill Veritas, but he hoped it would hurt her somehow and at the very least it would make a point.

"Maybe it does," he said, voice shaking with anger, "but people have to say it in their own time, when they're ready, not when you force them too."

* * *

Harry didn't know when their presence in the house was noticed, but when they got downstairs and exited through the front door they found two security guards, a middle aged man with a clipboard and an eager expression, and two officials from the Hungarian Ministry of Magic. The four of them were escorted to the Budapest Ministry building, where they were strongly advised to call in their parents (and sister, in Theo's case) but it wasn't forced when they all refused, and they were questioned on what happened that night. No one asked them to say what secrets they'd been forced to reveal, but both the officials and the man with the clipboard, who was the closest person to an expert on the House of Honesty, wanted to know how they got in the house, what happened while they were in there, and whether they felt or saw any kinds of magic, familiar or otherwise.

It was exhausting after an already difficult night and they were all glad to get back to their hotel shortly before dawn. They were meant to be checking out that morning and heading for Vienna, but they were so tired that Harry paid for another night and they spent most of the day sleeping. Things were tense between all them. Theo was obviously still worried about how they would react to what he said, Tori kept looking at Harry like she wanted to both yell at and hug him, and Anita seemed concerned about them knowing she killed someone despite the Secretus Charm.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with Theo. Admitting they loved each other meant starting a relationship, he thought, but Theo wouldn't even look at him right now, he didn't know how Theo's secret made him feel about the possibility of a real relationship instead of meaningless kissing, and Harry wasn't sure how his own secret was affecting things between them. Maybe Theo didn't want to get any closer to someone who was going to die in less than eighteen months.

They had two rooms joined by a bathroom in this hotel. Theo was still in bed that evening, not sleeping but refusing to get up anyway, and Anita sat in there with him while Harry and Tori used the girls' room to talk. They were meant to call home that day, but they were putting it off, not wanting their parents to notice anything was wrong.

"Are you going to tell them about—?" Tori asked, the Secretus Charm forcing her words to die in her throat.

"Not like this," Harry said, fiddling with the two-way mirror.

"But when we get home."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. Eventually."

"Eventually when?" she pushed. "Harry, they're our parents, you have to tell them."

"I know, I just..." He sighed. "It's not easy, you know. I have to tell them I'm going to die."

Tori suddenly perked up. "Hey, do you think being a vampire would stop—it? Maybe Dad will turn you earlier if it'll save you."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think it will. I can still die, it's just harder, but I'm pretty sure hellhounds are enough to tear apart a vampire."

"He might find something else though. He knows so much and he's so old. Maybe he's heard of something in the past."

"I have looked, Tori," he told her. "I've searched old, dark books and journals and read all about demons. There's no record of anyone survi-"

"Well maybe you missed something!"

He hugged her. "Yeah, maybe. Are you going to tell them about your thing?"

She snorted, pulling out of the hug. "My 'thing'. You're such a bloke, Harry, you're not even stopped by the Secretus Charm on this. And no, I'm not. What's the point? I'm not actually pregnant, so it doesn't matter. Telling them would basically just mean telling them I've had sex and they don't need to know that. What about you and Theo?"

"What about us?"

She poked his side. "Are you going to have a relationship now?"

"I don't know. I'm happy he loves me too, but it's more complicated than that. He goes back to school in September and I'm travelling the rest of the world, hopefully."

"Plus you're—y'know."

"Yeah, plus that. And I don't know if he's... y'know, the whole—I don't if he's too... traumatised or whatever to want anything serious. I mean, I'm not saying we'd immediately have to have sex," he added hurriedly, feeling his face heat up and not looking at her because this was his _sister_ for crying out loud, but he had no one else to talk about it with, "or if we ever would or not, I just mean he's... he's obviously..."

"You guys'll have to talk about it," she said. "You should find out what he wants and probably reassure him again that you're not bothered about—. It's horrible his—" She looked frustrated at the forced silence, but then said, "Do you think he'll press charges?"

Harry shook his head. "He obviously didn't even want to admit it or anything, so I doubt he's ready to tell a court. Maybe in the future. I don't know." He sighed and looked down at the mirror. "We should call home. Let's not mention that we were kidnapped by a goddess, okay?"

"Agreed."

They managed to keep their moods light for the duration of the call, updating their parents on where they were and where they were heading next and assuring them they were fine. They were hungry by the time it was over, but Anita and Theo were talking in the other room and didn't want to eat right now, so Harry and Tori decided to just go down to the hotel restaurant.

By the time they got back, Anita and Theo were playing exploding snap and said they'd ordered room service. Harry was just glad to see Theo up and talking, though he still avoided Harry's gaze. Tori mentioned the possibility of their going out that night, but none of them felt up to it and they'd seen all the parts of Budapest that they really wanted to so they just relaxed around the rooms.

It wasn't until late that Theo finally really spoke to Harry, after they'd settled down for bed and the girls' were in their own room. In the darkness, Harry listened to Theo shifting around in the other bed, then there was a scratch and a flicker of light as Theo lit a match and put it to the cigarette in his mouth. They'd made sure to get smoking rooms at every hotel they stayed at so the boys, Theo especially, could light up without having to leave every time except when they were near Anita, who hated it. Without teachers or parents looking over their shoulders, Theo was smoking ten a day.

"You okay?" Harry asked quietly, watching the faint glow of the cigarette, the only light in the room.

"I will be," Theo replied just as quietly. "I've never told anyone about... what happened. I've always tried to forget about it, to be honest. Pretend it didn't happen. Being made to talk about it wasn't easy."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, not knowing what else to say. Theo blew out a smoke ring.

"Yeah. Look, I'm not going to talk about it more, alright? Anita reckons I should see a therapist when I'm back in England, and maybe I will because Professor Martin was dropping hints as well after last summer, but I'm not talking about it with anyone else, so please don't ask about it."

"Alright. I can't say anything about it anyway, even to you."

"Good. And don't treat me different. I don't need pity or treating like I'm going to breakdown or something. Nothing's changed."

"Okay. What about us?"

Theo shifted. "You know in stories when the characters say 'I love you', that's it. Saying 'I love you' is the hardest part and after that they just... be a couple. One of them drops everything in their life to be with the other. I don't think it works like that in reality, 'cause I can't come on the world trip with you and I don't expect you to give it up and come back to Hogwarts with me."

"Would you like to come around the world with me?"

"Ideally? Yes. You're going to—oh, that's weird, I don't like that. But you know what I mean, it's going to happen in a year and a half; I want to spend as much time with you as I can before then. But I can't afford it and I do actually need to take my NEWTs so I can get a worthwhile job later in life."

"I thought you wanted to be a novelist."

"I do, but I still need a steady income until I get published and even getting into journalism is easier with some NEWTs."

"What about taking them later? I've heard of others doing that. I could pay for you to come on the trip with us."

"I can't ask that of you."

"You're not, I'm offering. My parents are ridiculously rich, Theo, and I have my own money I inherited from my birth parents."

"I don't like charity, Harry," Theo said, but his tone wavered.

"Consider it a gift. A present for both of us," Harry said, knowing how Theo hated even something so simple as receiving a gift without returning the favour. "I want to spend as much time with you, as well. Don't think I'm not being a bit selfish with this offer."

Theo blew out another smoke ring then shifted and stubbed the cigarette out in the ash tray. Harry's eyes had grown used to the darkness and he could just make out Theo's outline. "Let me think about it."

"Sure."

"But, in the mean time..." Harry saw his silhouette get up and approach and then the bed dipped as Theo lay down beside him. "You're still asexual, aren't you? Even though you love me?"

"Yes. It's like I said—there's romantic attraction and sexual attraction. I only feel the romantic. You're the same, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure," Theo admitted, sounding apologetic and quickly adding, "I love you, I do," as if Harry might have forgotten that he said as much in a place where he couldn't lie, "but it's only you. I don't think I feel the romantic attraction in general. You're just special."

"I'm glad. It really sucked when I realised I fancied you and thought you'd never fancy me back."

"Tell me about it," Theo said dryly. "When did you realise?"

"September, a week into school. After tryouts for the Quidditch team I saw you kissing someone and I got jealous. I thought I'd get over it, but I didn't so I kinda figured I was in love with you. When did you?"

"I fell in love with you last summer, but I didn't realise until we were back at school and whenever I kissed someone else I always wanted it to be you."

"Why do you kiss people? Do you just like kissing that much?"

"I love kissing. I love how nice it is and how it makes me feel wanted and... normal."

"Normal?"

"You've heard the other kids at school when we've said we're asexual while they're talking about wanting to make out and getting blue balls and how much they want to shag whoever. They say we're just late bloomers or we haven't found the right person or that there's something wrong with us. Don't you ever wonder if they're right?"

"Maybe sometimes, but I realised I'm happy as I am and if I'm happy being like this then I can't be broken, can I? Just because I'm not the same as most of the other kids doesn't mean I'm not normal. You're normal too."

Theo kissed him, so sudden it surprised Harry, but he relaxed into it, kissing him back. He squirmed out from under the covers so he could pull Theo closer, pressing against him as the kiss deepened, but then Theo broke it, pulling back slightly.

"Thank you, Harry."

"What for?"

"Saying I'm normal like you believe it."

"I _do_ believe it."

"I'm grateful for that because I almost never do." He shifted, pushing Harry onto his back and half laying on him, burying his face in Harry's neck. Voice muffled, he said, "When I realised I didn't fancy people, I couldn't help thinking... I had to wonder if... if it broke me. What my father did. If it damaged something in me. And then you told me that you didn't fancy people either, and you said there were vampires in your parents' nest who didn't, _and_ you said they'd known other humans like that, and it was such a huge relief. Sometimes I still wonder, but knowing I wasn't the only one..."

Harry tightened his grip on him, pressing his cheek to Theo's hair. "You're not broken."

Theo kissed his neck, a silent thank you. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you go out with me?"

Harry laughed. "Yes, of course."

"I had to ask to make it official. I'm not sleeping with you though. In any sense of the word."

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Harry frowned. "Because if you don't want to do something then I'm not going to make you. If you don't want to sleep with me, that's okay. Really."

Theo pushed himself up onto his elbows, propping himself up beside Harry, who could just barely make out the shape of his features. "Okay, but do you want it? And just to clarify, I mean sex, not just _sleeping_ sleeping together."

"I know, and... I don't know." He was suddenly glad for the darkness. Sharing a dorm for five years should really have given him a better handle on discussions of sex, especially as it often felt like all the other boys could think and talk about was sex, but somehow he'd still reached sixteen and found it embarrassing to discuss. At least in the dark Theo couldn't see him blush. "Everyone says it's so great and maybe it is, but I feel the same about it as I do about kisses—I won't know if I like it until I try, but I don't care if I _don't_ try. You know?"

There was a brief pause in which Harry suddenly thought that might not be the most sensitive thing to say to someone who'd been raped, but then Theo agreed, "Yeah, I know."

"So I don't _want_ it, as such. If you don't, then we don't have to. I won't care if I die a virgin or something. As long as most other people don't find out because everyone else seems to think it'd be pathetic to die a virgin."

"I don't think it's pathetic."

"Thanks. But, just out of curiosity, why won't you sleep-sleep with me? I won't insist on that, either, but I just wondered."

Theo snorted. "Because I've shared a dorm with you for five years and I've seen what you're like when you sleep. You're all over the place, it's ridiculous. It's not _safe_ to sleep with you; I'll wake up covered in bruises."

"I'm not that bad!"

"You are. And you snore."

"I do not!"

"You do."

"Well at least I don't drool."

"I don't _drool_."

"You drool like a baby."

"I do _not_. I'm going back to my bed."

Harry caught him by the sleeve before he could get away, feeling his way up to Theo's face and then tugging him down to make their lips meet in a tender kiss.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."

* * *

They hit Vienna the next morning, stayed a couple of days, then moved onto Prague, a few places around Germany, and finally Amsterdam and Rotterdam, from where they took a ferry to Hull. Ada picked them up from the port and drove them to Nottingham, and it felt a bit strange to be back. Different to how it usually felt even after a summer spent in France, Italy, or Greece. Maybe because they were changed people now, not the same as they'd been when they left England nearly two months earlier, and it wasn't all because of the House of Honesty, just the simple fact of having spent this time travelling without adults, finding themselves and growing up.

Gabriel and Lorna greeted Harry and Tori with hugs and kisses, enough for it to get embarrassing, and Harry introduced Anita to them. She was impressed by the manor and said staying there for a week would be so different to home and Hogwarts that it was practically a holiday all in itself.

She refused to go home; Mrs Darzi still didn't want her going on the world trip and Anita didn't want her mother to try locking her in a room or something to keep her home. Not that Anita wouldn't be able to get out—her mother was a Muggle, after all, and Anita more than capable of magically opening a lock—but Anita felt that it would somehow make things worse if she had to break out and runaway than if she just never went back. They argued loudly over the phone when Anita called to let Mrs Darzi know she was safely back in England, but Anita was adamant so Gabriel and Lorna insisted Anita stay with them as they insisted Harry stay home for the last week of the summer holiday.

Theo and Tori's Hogwarts letters had arrived a week earlier with their booklists and notes telling them to only buy the books for the subjects they planned to take at NEWT level. Tori wanted to get hers after a day's rest, so she'd have chance to look through them before the year began, but Theo read his letter, put it back in the envelope, and announced that he was joining Anita and Harry for the next year. Harry had already mentioned the idea to Anita and she was fine with it. It just meant Theo had to write to Hogwarts telling them he wasn't coming back until next year and handing in his Prefect badge, which he admitted he was a little disappointed about.

"Doing patrols was a great time to sneak a fag," he confessed to Harry.

Gabriel and Lorna were happier there was an extra person going with them and even put forth the idea of Tori doing the same as Theo, but Tori refused. She didn't want to fall back a year in her studies and have to fit in with the year below.

"You'd be in the same year as Tyler then," Harry pointed out.

"But not the same house so it wouldn't make much difference. Besides, my friends are in this year. If I fell behind, I'd have to break into someone else's friend group or end up a loner in classes and stuff." She pulled a face. "I'd have to hang out with Loony Lovegood. Besides, I've got my whole life to travel the world."

Harry avoided her gaze.

"When are you going to tell Mum and Dad? You have to do it before you leave, Harry," she said when he shrugged. "They have to know."

"I know, I know. It's just hard. They're gonna freak out."

"You want me there? With the Vacatio Charm?"

He shook his head. "I have to do it myself."

In the end, he did it a few days before the end of August, when Tori went to Diagon Alley to get her school supplies (alone for the first time, as Jennifer obviously couldn't go and Tori pointed out that she could certainly manage London after touring Europe, although she still needed Ada to Apparate her to London). Harry stuttered and stumbled over the words, taking twice as long as it should to actually say what he needed to. Afterwards, he fell silent, watching his parents, waiting for their reaction. Lorna looked on the brink of tears, a first that Harry had ever seen, but Gabriel's expression had gone completely blank.

"Just to be sure I have this correct—you made a deal with a crossroads demon when you were seven, exchanging your soul for the knowledge of every single spell ever invented. The ten years afforded you by the demon runs out in January ninety-eight, at which point you will, of course, die."

Harry nodded.

"I see." Gabriel paused. "Who told you how to summon a crossroads demon?"

"I'm not saying."

"Why?"

"Because you look like you'll tear them a new one, literally, and that's not fair."

Emotion exploded from Gabriel in a torrent of vulgar Latin. He tended towards Italian when he was being affectionate and French when he was scolding Harry or Tori, but only when he was really emotional did he fall back on his mother tongue.

«You were seven years old!» he raged, anger in his voice but clearly not aimed at Harry. «You couldn't understand what you were doing, no one had any right telling you how to conjure demons!»

«I don't care, I'm not telling you,» Harry responded in the same, although his spoken Latin wasn't very good. «I knew that I was selling my soul and I thought it was worth it.»

"Do you still?" Lorna asked in English before Gabriel could rant further.

"I regret that I'm going to die, but if I hadn't made this deal I probably would have died sooner. Knowing all those spells saved me when I fell off the Quidditch stands in my first year, and helped me against Riddle, breaking in and out of Azkaban, killing Voldemort..." They didn't look impressed, and he added, "It kept me hidden from the Ministry of Magic all the years I was living with you before the adoption. If I hadn't been able to do that, they'd have come and taken me away, you know they would."

"We'd have found a way to hide you. But Harry," she took his hands in hers, sat beside him on a sofa in the family room, "you couldn't have really understood what you were doing, and whoever told you about demon deals was wrong to do so. They must have realised you might try it; your death is on their head."

"And it's their head I'll have," Gabriel said. "Tell me their name, Harry."

"No."

"Was it Gareth Martin?"

"No, it wasn't Gareth. I'm not telling you, Dad, no matter how much you ask."

"I could stop your trip," he threatened.

Harry surged to his feet in a burst of anger, but he bit his tongue before yelling and instead said calmly, "You're going to deny me my dying wish?"

Lorna stood as well. "No, we're not," she said, glaring at Gabriel.

Some of Gabriel's anger faded to determination instead. "You're not dying."

"Can we do anything about this?" Lorna asked, looking unsure. "Demons?"

"By the time I'm done with them," Gabriel growled, "they'll be swearing to protect Harry with their very existence."

* * *

Gareth sighed and broke the kiss, climbing off Lupin's lap and flopping down onto the sofa beside him.

"What's wrong?"

"Lord Valentine," Gareth muttered.

"Oh."

Gareth glared at his lover. "Don't 'oh' like that. It's not my fault."

"Did I say it was?"

"You were thinking it, I can tell."

"No, I wasn't. All I said was 'oh'. Stop snapping at me."

"I'm not—" Gareth broke off, sighed again, and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry."

Lupin patted his thigh, a silent acceptance of the apology. "What's wrong exactly? Is he calling for you?"

Gareth shook his head. "Not exactly. He's angry and upset—extremely so for me to feel it this much—and I think he'd appreciate me there, but he's not actively calling."

"Do you want to go?"

"No," Gareth answered without hesitation, putting his hand over Lupin's and squeezing. "There's two days until school starts; I want as much time with you as possible before then."

Lupin smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek only for Gareth to turn his head and make their mouths meet. He tried to deepen it, to get back to the mood they were in before the sudden burst of emotion down his Bond from Gabriel, but it just wasn't the same and after a minute Lupin broke the kiss and instead tugged Gareth to cuddle against him.

"'m sorry," Gareth apologised, leaning into him.

"Not your fault. Do you know what he's angry and upset about?"

"No."

Something must show in his tone because Lupin prompted, "But...?"

"But I'm pretty sure it's something to do with the kids," Gareth admitted. "There's an underlying feelings of love and concern beneath the anger and upset."

"Maybe you should go to him," Lupin suggested. Gareth sat up to look him in the face and prod him in the chest.

"Y'know, that's exactly the kind of thing that Lord Valentine and Harry think you're dating me for. Spying on your godson."

"Well," Lupin said with a sly grin, "who says I'm not dating you to spy on my godson?"

Gareth gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his chest. "Oh!" he cried, toppling backwards across the sofa, lifting his other hand to his head. "Oh! Woe is me! I have been cruelly used! You have slain me mercilessly! Goodbye, cruel world!"

Lupin sighed. "Why do I always end up with the dramatic ones?" he muttered, but shifted to bend over Gareth, who was now pretending to be dead, and kissed him. There was no response so he kissed along his jaw instead. "I am not dating you to spy on my godson. I am dating you because I love you." Still no response. His mouth moved down Gareth's throat. "Shall I tell you why I love you? I love you because you're beautiful and sexy, and intelligent and funny. I love you _despite_ the fact that you're over-dramatic and irritating." There was a nudge from Gareth's foot, but he otherwise still didn't respond. Lupin smiled against his skin, hands unbuttoning his shirt so he could kiss down his chest. "I love how you enjoy your work so much, and how even when you're complaining about the students it's obvious you still think the world of every single one of them." He was halfway down Gareth's chest now and the other man was still silent, but he'd moved one of his hands to Lupin's head, fingers carding through his hair. "I love you because you have gorgeous eyes, a mouth to die for, and a body to kill for. I love that you want me as much as I want you, that you've never been scared of me, that you make me feel safe and loved." He paused, pressing his cheek to Gareth's belly and tilting his head to look up towards his face. "Are you still dying of heartbreak?"

"No," Gareth murmured. "I'm very much alive and very much happy and very much in love with you."

"Glad to hear it."

"I'd love you even more if you kept using your mouth."

"For what?"

"Kisses or compliments, I love 'em both."

"Pick one."

"Compliments."

"You surprise me, Gareth."

"Yeah, well." Gareth grinned, finally shifting the arm that covered his face and lifting his head so he could look down at Lupin. "I didn't say where you should put your mouth while you're complimenting me."

* * *

It was an hour later when Gareth arrived at Lynott Manor. He found Gabriel in his study, desk piled with books. The vampire glanced up when Gareth entered, but only briefly, and Gareth went to the sofa to one side, sprawling across it, feet crossed on one of the arms, head resting on the other.

"Did you want something?" Gabriel asked, not looking up from his books.

"Just wondering what's up with you."

"Who said anything is 'up with me'?" Gabriel replied, and Gareth could hear the quotations in his voice.

"The negative emotions spiralling down the Bond for the last hour and a half. So what's up?"

Gabriel made a noise of irritation and slammed his book shut, leaning back in his chair and looking over at Gareth. "Did you know about Harry's deal?"

"What deal?"

"His demon deal."

"Oh, that."

"And you didn't tell me."

Gareth sat up, meeting Gabriel's angry look with one of his own. "No, I didn't, because it wasn't mine to tell."

Gabriel was out of his chair and around the desk fast enough that Gareth never saw him move, and he tensed at suddenly having an angry vampire looming over him. "My son sold his soul to demons and you didn't tell me."

Gareth started to stand, but Gabriel pushed him back down. It didn't stop him glaring up at him. "It wasn't mine to tell. It was Harry's secret."

"I don't _care!_ " Gabriel roared, and this time Gareth physically flinched back. "He's my _son_ , I deserved to know there's a death sentence on his head!"

"It wasn't my secret," Gareth repeated, managing to keep his tone even despite pressing himself back against the cushions. It wasn't just that Gabriel was angry with him—he'd faced down angry vampires before—and it wasn't even that the anger was rippling down the Bond as much as it was radiating out of Gabriel, but it combined with his vampiric seduction abilities to press down on Gareth and demand fearful submission from him. He _hated_ it. Having a vampire for a Master was the only time he had no resistance to the seduction. No other vampire could use it against him, but Gabriel could and with extreme efficiency.

Gabriel put a knee down beside Gareth's thigh and a hand on the back of the sofa by his head, trapping him in place and lowering his face until they were nose to nose. "He. Is. My. Son," he bit out in a voice barely loud enough for Gareth to hear. "I don't care if you think you're protecting his privacy, if his life is in danger, _you tell me_."

The words _yes master_ rose in his throat and he choked them down. "I will not disrespect my student's privacy just because you own my soul."

"He's not just any student—"

"No, he's not!" Gareth snapped. "He's Harry fucking Potter. He's an alternate version of _me_. In the right circumstances, he could have _been_ me, or I could have been him. So if you think that my loyalty to you is greater than it is to him, you can fucking well think again."

Gabriel's other hand latched onto his throat. He didn't squeeze, but his fingers twitched in an unspoken threat and Gareth knew he had to strength to crush his throat without even trying.

"Haven't I made it clear yet that my children are more important than anything else in this world?"

"Perfectly. The problem is you seem to think them being your children means more than them being their own person. You think you're the only person that cares about them."

"No, but I know that I care about them more than anyone else does. More than you. You think being a doppelganger gives you some kind of connection to him?"

"I think it earns him my loyalty more than forcibly enslaving me does."

"I'm his _father_. I _raised_ him. You turned up on his birthday for a few years, you took over from Severus Snape in taking him to his parents' graveyard every year, and you're his teacher. You're not even that anymore. So don't you dare talk about caring for Harry more than I do. As you so aptly pointed out, I own your soul and you will do what I tell you."

"What are you going to do if I don't, huh? Choke me until I agree?"

Gabriel said nothing, but his fingers twitched again. Gareth smiled grimly. "Just like all the others. We found your flipping point. I'm honestly disappointed, m'lord. You were doing so well; I had high hopes for you. Of course, you haven't beat the record, but you stole me too late for that. Still, two years, that's not bad." He licked his lips, eyes flicking down to Gabriel's wrist. "Come on then. Not even gonna leave me bruises yet, though I'll be honest: I expected you to use your teeth."

One more twitch of the fingers then Gabriel withdrew, straightening up and stepping back a pace. "I'm not going to start beating you."

"Who said anything about beating me?" Gareth said, sitting up straighter. "There's other kinds of abuse. You know that."

"I'm not abusing you."

Gareth shrugged. "Not yet."

"You think very badly of me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say _that_. I've got a pretty high threshold of 'bad'. I mean, come on, I was brainwashed into killing Muggles and hating my own mother by the time I was fourteen." He linked his fingers behind his head and grinned up at Gabriel. "So placing bets that you'll turn on me before my loop resets? That's not thinking badly of you, that's following patterns. My Masters always turn on me. It's a fact that the kind of people who would enslave me in the first place are the kind of people that tend to end up resorting to threats and violence, physical or emotional. And those kinds of people always have a breaking point. There's always something that drives them to turn that violence on me. Even the ones that say they love me, the ones that _believe_ they love me. Eventually the power of the Bond gets to their heads and they ask me for something I don't want to give." He shrugged. "And then it starts. Usually begins with a smack here, a few minor bruises there, but inevitably it escalates to beating me half to death, Whipping Hexes shredding my back to ribbons, and for the really bad ones the Cruciatus Curse."

"I am not that man."

Gareth laughed incredulously, lowering his hands and getting to his feet. "Oh yeah, 'cause you've never hurt _anyone_ in your long, long life. In fact, I seem to recall you breaking my foot just a couple of years ago."

"I didn't say that," Gabriel said quietly. "I've forced information from people, I've taken revenge. But if I hurt you, it won't be because this Bond makes me. It'll be because I need something from you or because you've done something to deserve it."

"Ha! Magic words, those. 'You deserved it.' As if I haven't heard _that_ a million times before."

Gabriel scowled. "I'm not talking minor disobedience, Gareth. I am _well_ aware of the manipulations of abusers. If I say you deserve it, I'm talking doing serious harm to me or my family."

"Well I'm not going to do anything to you except in self-defence, I've got nothing against Lady Valentine, and I'd cut my own hands off before I hurt the kids."

"Then we'll be fine."

"Sure, as long as you keep your hands off my throat." He met Gabriel's gaze and held it. "'Cause, y'know, slippery slopes and all that."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "I will keep my hands to myself from now on. But I will still make you talk, Gareth. I will not have you hiding things about my children from me. I don't need to hurt you to make you talk. I order you to tell me about anything Harry is hiding from me."

Gareth's right hand twitched at his side. "No," he said softly. "I won't."

"Gareth, I _order_ you—"

"No."

Anger flickered across Gabriel's face. "You can't disobey me."

"Yes, I can. It'll hurt me, but I can do it, and for Harry I will."

"I'm trying to protect him. I'm trying to save his life."

"From demons? Great, you try all you like. I'm glad for it, really I am. But forcing me to tell his secrets isn't protecting him, it's just invading his privacy and breaking the trust between parent and child."

"You're really going to refuse me this."

"I'm really going to refuse you this."

Gabriel sighed, turning away and moving around the desk to retake his seat. "At least tell me if you know any way I can save Harry from his demon deal."

Gareth perched on the edge of the desk, looking over the books. "I don't. I've never seen anyone get out of it, but that's not to say it hasn't happened."

"Neither have I," Gabriel said softly. "I know there's nothing in these books, I don't know why I even bothered taking them off the shelves."

"Tangled with crossroads demons before?"

"Not exactly, but I have met people who have made deals. I've seen a man killed by hellhounds." His voice dropped. "I will not let my son die like that."

"Got a game plan?"

"Find whoever holds his contract and get them to void it then kill them. What is it?" he added at Gareth's expression.

"How do you intend to make him 'void' it?"

"Torture him until—"

"No, I figured that. How do you expect him to void _the_ contract. Because it's not a piece of paper."

"What is it?"

Gareth waved his hand in a semi-circular motion in front of himself and ancient words appeared on his skin, visible on his bared face, hands, and lower forearms, like someone had carved them into him with a blood quill.

Gabriel straightened in his seat. "What is that?"

"My contract."

Gabriel ran his fingers over Gareth's arm below his rolled up sleeve, but as real and fresh as the words looked, he couldn't feel them. He could almost sense the magic, though.

"Embedded in you skin," he said angrily, sitting back, "and presumably any efforts to destroy it would destroy you."

Gareth nodded, waving his hand again and making the words vanish from view once more. "Any efforts by you, yeah. The demons can void it, but I've never heard of any Crowley ever doing it for a Harry."

"Crowley?"

"King of the Crossroads, and the one Harry deals with. He really doesn't like to give up a soul once he's bought it. You can try, but I'd say it's probably a waste of time."

Gabriel sighed irritably. "Plan B then. Capture as many demons as I can until they decide it's a better idea to just give me what I ask for."

"Capture?"

"I can't kill them without a wand, but I can exorcise and trap them in specially enchanted jars, and I imagine the higher level demons will be just as unhappy with that as with me killing them. I shall need your help with that, though. Those jars are rare, but I presume you're capable of the enchantments required to make a regular jar demon-proof."

"Piss easy," Gareth agreed, then frowned. "What are you going to do with the people they possess, and are you're planning to start now?"

"If they're alive after, I'll let them go. I'm sure they'll be grateful for my aid, if they haven't been driven mad, and if they don't survive I'll handle the bodies the same as any others. You don't think I should begin now?"

"Maybe you can capture enough to make them cancel the deal, but how long is that going to take? And in the meantime... well, they're going to be _really_ unhappy with you and demons have got no qualms about taking their anger out on loved ones. Tori's going to be at Hogwarts and Harry's going around the world with just a couple of other teenagers keeping him company." It was clear Gabriel hadn't considered this, his expression darkening at Gareth's words. "You've just finished one war, m'lord. Might not be a good idea to start another so soon."

Gabriel lifted his gaze. His expression was the same as it had been five minutes ago when his hand was around Gareth's throat. "I will not give up on my son just to avoid a war with demons."

"That's not what I'm suggesting," Gareth said calmingly. "I'm just saying to wait a bit. Look, Harry's deal runs out January ninety-eight, right?"

"You should know." There was a pause. Gabriel's gaze narrowed. "Isn't that the same date as yours?"

"Nope. I made mine second of May eighty-eight. Why do you think I tried to go back in time on the first of May ten years later?"

"Why is Harry's earlier?"

Gareth shrugged. "It's a Key Point but the time isn't set, except that it always happens between the seventh and eighth birthday. I did it May. Your Harry did it in January. My point was, let him take his trip. Tell him he gets a year and ask him to come back by September next year. Theo has to be back for that school year anyway. Still gives you four months after to hunt demons and I know what you're capable of when you're really determined. If you can't capture enough to make them change their minds in that time, you never will. Also it'll give you chance to protect your home and family from the potential retribution that's going to be coming after you in those four months."

Gabriel considered it, frowning, fingers drumming against the desktop. Gareth watched, but he could sense that Gabriel's mood was easier. The anger was fading, the sadness taking over. It hadn't been that long since he learnt the news; he hadn't had time to process it properly yet.

"Go be with your family, m'lord. You've got time to save Harry, you don't need to start right now. Spend some time with him."

" _You're_ advising _me_?"

"Yeah, I am. Hey, remember, I may look like a pretty thirty-something, but I've been around nearly half as long as you have. Not in _this_ world, but ones close enough."

Gabriel smiled thinly. "Your ego is astounding, but you're not wrong. I'm going to spend time with my family. You can return to the school. Or your werewolf."

Gareth held his gaze, not tensing but hyper aware that Gabriel could hear his heart rate picking up. Gabriel had never said anything about Gareth's relationship with Lupin before, but Gareth assumed he knew about it. He didn't put it past Gabriel to have questioned him on it and wiped his memory after, or to have let it slide until the moment came when he no longer saw an advantage to letting his Slave date Harry's godfather.

When Gabriel said nothing more, Gareth cleared his throat. "You got a problem with that?"

"With you dating a werewolf? Specifically, the werewolf who also happens to be my son's official godfather? Now why on earth would I have a problem with that?"

"I don't know. Vampires and werewolves having an age old rivalry might have something to do with it." He licked his lips. "And like you said. It's Harry's godfather."

"It's not my decision who you choose to date."

"Oh, _please_ ," Gareth drawled, rolling his eyes. "Don't insult me with that crap. You're a control freak, m'lord, and you own me. I fully expect you to interfere with me dating Remus Lupin."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you call me that, and I'm going to point out that I have done nothing about your decision to date the werewolf before now."

"You've also never mentioned it before now, and you definitely knew."

"Hard not to when you turn up here smelling like a wet dog. I felt it was time I should mention it, but I'm not going to stop you seeing him, as long as he doesn't try to use—"

"He won't."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Gareth rolled his eyes again and hopped off the desk.

"You don't think that occurred to me? You don't think it occurred to him that I was only dating him at _your_ command? Well I'm not, and he's not. We're just two blokes who had the luck to fall in love, and the rest of it is irrelevant. Can I go now?"

Gabriel waved a hand at the door leading into the east wing. "I never summoned you. You're free to leave whenever you like."

Gareth went to it but paused with hand on the handle. "I'm sorry about Harry, Lord Valentine. I really hope you can save him."

Gabriel didn't look around. "So do I."


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

On the first of September, Ada drove halfway across London to drop Harry, Theo, and Anita at London's international Floo hub before carrying on to take Tori to King's Cross Station. From the Floo hub, the three teens showed their passports to the guards and then joined the queue for the fireplace to the international hub at Copenhagen, Denmark. It wasn't somewhere they visited during their Europe trip, so they were going there first and then moving up into the Scandinavian peninsula.

For Theo's birthday on the second, at his request, the only thing of note they did was for him and Harry to share a joint. His birthdays had never been special he said, and since his father's arrest the only one that gave it any attention was Harry; his sister almost never remembered, and if she did the best she managed was to send a birthday card with a gift voucher two weeks late.

There wasn't a lot in Scandinavia they wanted to do; they visited the capitals and places hailed as being the most beautiful parts to see, did a couple of nights in north Finland to watch the Aurora Borealis, and then went on to Russia. They visited St Petersburg and then Moscow, and from there they took the Trans-Mongolian Railway to Beijing.

It was a seven-day ride, but it took them three times as long because they stopped along the way at Novosibirsk, Irkutsk, and Ulan Bator, where they also ventured into the Gobi desert. But Harry enjoyed the train ride more than their stops, enjoyed watching the beautiful scenery rushing by, enjoyed being stuck in close quarters with Theo, although they had to be careful not to make Anita feel left out or like a third-wheel. They were alright for part of the journey; Anita met a Chinese girl on the train had a whirlwind three-day romance with her.

They spent most of October in China, visiting Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong. Anita's birthday was on the thirteenth and to celebrate they took a Demiguise sight-seeing tour—a venture that consisted mostly of creeping around very quietly so as not to startle the creatures into turning themselves invisible. It also meant all three of them were now free to cast magic.

After, they headed west. There was an all-magic city in Tibet, the largest in the world, but they didn't visit it yet, instead heading for India. Anita's parents had come from a place called Patna in Bihar and their went there for a day, but Anita didn't want to stay. She didn't talk much about it, but whatever she'd been hoping to find there it was obvious she failed.

She was a lot happier when they headed to Amritsar. Diwali, the festival of lights, was on the tenth of November. Although it was a Hindu festival, it coincided with the Sikh festival of Bandi Chhor Divas. They arrived early enough for Anita to visit Harmandir Sahib, the Golden Temple, before the festival began. Harry and Theo offered to let her go alone, but she insisted they come. It didn't matter that they weren't Sikhs, she said; everyone of all races, nationalities, and religions were welcome at Harmandir Sahib. Harry had to admit, it was incredible. It wasn't just the beauty of it and the architecture—it was a place of power. Sikhism was a religion that had always had a connection to the magical world, a fair share of wizards practising it alongside Muggles, and the Harmandir Sahib had an entire area just for wizards.

For Theo it was strange. Wizards, as a whole, didn't have much in the way of religion. Muggleborns often brought their religions with them and wizarding communities assimilated a lot into their country's major religious aspects—like Hogwarts celebrating Christmas—but there was no wizard-only religion, nothing connected directly to their magic.

On top of that, Britain's biggest religion was Christianity, which was very much not in favour of magic. So while Harry had the advantage of hearing Gabriel talk about the pre-Christian Roman era when magic was perfectly accepted amidst their early religions, and knowing a handful of nest vampires with other beliefs, Theo tended to think 'religion=Christianity=witch hunts'. He saw the idea of religion co-existing alongside magic the same way he viewed Muggleborns—something he was forced to put up with and, through his friendship with Harry, was slowly learning to accept as not as despicable as he'd always been taught.

Of course, all three of them and Tori had been forced to re-examine their beliefs after the House of Honesty in Budapest. It hadn't been much for Harry, already questioning the existence of gods after Gareth told him they existed. Veritas had merely been confirmation. It didn't mean he was going to start worshipping her, or any others.

Theo hadn't lost much sleep over it either. Something had flipped in him the moment Veritas whispered in his ear and he took her word that there were other gods beside herself. Like Harry, he didn't consider it any reason to change his way of life or take up a religion; the way he saw it, gods were just like any other magical creature and he didn't go around worshipping hippogriffs just because they existed. If he met another, he'd give it the same respect he'd give a dragon, but that was as far as it went.

Anita on the other hand, after a good night's sleep, refused to believe Veritas was a god. She maintained her belief in the One God and insisted Veritas must have been a magical manifestation of some kind, a demon, or a shared hallucination the four of them had. She didn't deny that what happened in the house was real, but was adamant that it was nothing divine.

But Tori, having grown up with a father who practised an ancient religion and a mother who still believed in but refused to worship the Christian god, had garnered an agnostic view that gods were a personal matter. Gods might exist as a non-corporeal cosmic entity, or they might not, but Tori wouldn't tell a believer that their god didn't exist and she wouldn't worship any of them if she couldn't be sure of their existence. Veritas was a slap in the face to that. Unlike Theo and Harry, Tori felt that gods had to be worshipped because that's what they were for, but she also felt Anita might have a point about Veritas not really being a god. By the time she returned to Hogwarts, she was still undecided on the matter, but she'd said to Harry that if she did decide Veritas was really a god, she would start worshipping all the same gods that Gabriel did, given that it was a Roman god who'd appeared to them.

They split up for a bit inside the temple. Anita wanted to listen to Gurbani, but Harry and Theo felt too much like outsiders for that. They accepted that the Sikhs had their beliefs, that Anita could follow them all she liked, and they would be respectful of it, especially inside a gurdwara, but the boys didn't believe and they didn't feel right listening to Gurbani anymore than they would listening to a Catholic sermon.

"Do you feel it?" Theo asked Harry as they viewed the various memorial plaques around the temple while Anita was listening to Gurbani.

"Feel what?"

"I don't know. Their god? You're supposed to feel that when you enter a place of worship, aren't you? The presence of whatever god the place is dedicated to? I felt the power in the magical area, like we were surrounded by active spells, but the rest of it... it's a really impressive building, but not godly."

Harry looked up from a list of names of Sikh soldiers lost in World War II. "I don't know, I kind of feel something."

"Magic leaking out of the wizards' area?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean..." He thought about it, frowning, turning away from the memorial to look around the whole area. "Did Flitwick ever cover the theory of magical origins in your Charms classes?"

"He mentioned it a few times, but the in depth stuff is NEWT level or higher."

"You heard the theory that magic doesn't come from a magical core inside us, like a lot of people say, but just exists in the world, like air?"

Theo nodded. "My father said it was crap. He said if magic was all around us then anyone could do it. Having a magical core is what makes us better—different," he amended, "than Muggles. Why?"

"I always liked it better as a theory, and if it's true I think that's what I'm feeling here. I felt the same sort of thing when I've visited St Paul's Cathedral in London, and even a little bit at the old Roman and Greek temples we visited in the summer. You're probably going to hate this idea, but I think that even though Muggles can't do proper magic, they can still affect the magic around us with things like belief and prayer. So in a place like this, with so many people coming through believing in a higher power and praying to it or whatever, it sort of stirs up the magic. When people say they walk into somewhere like this and 'feel God', I think they're feeling the magic and they just don't know it."

"You're right, I do hate it," Theo said, grimacing slightly. "I'm not saying Muggles should be killed off or ruled over by us or anything—I think we're safer to remain completely separate—and I don't know what I believe about where magic comes from, but I definitely believe Muggles should have nothing to do with it and they're Muggles because they can't do magic _at all_. But you believe in gods, don't you? In general, sort of thing. You believe Veritas was a goddess, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so if the divinity or whatever that people feel in a temple is magic instead of god, where are the gods?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not saying the gods aren't present at temples, but I think gods are powered by magic rather than the other way around. People believe in them, that belief stirs up the magic, and that makes the gods. The more belief, the stronger the god, so obviously they're stronger at their temples."

Theo frowned. "So you're saying that humans made gods?"

"I guess. Yeah, kinda."

"I think that's sacrilege or something."

Harry grinned. "Probably."

On the day of Bandi Chhor itself, Anita left their inn early to accompany so many others to the temple to bathe in the sacred tank, say their prayers, and pay obeisance. Harry and Theo rejoined her later and they watched the lights around the Golden Temple lit and the firework display over it. It was stunning to see the city lit up like that, to witness the Sikh and Hindu celebrations. It was probably the most impressive thing Harry had ever seen.

They moved on a few days later. They went to New Delhi and Mumbai, which had a magical zoo where they saw Ramoras and Occamies, a few places in the south and east of India, and then ventured up to Gurdwara Hemkund Sahib in Uttarakhand, another temple Anita wanted to visit, set by a glacial lake in the Himalayas. It was inaccessible for Muggles during the winter months so during this time wizards came in to care for the temple.

By the time they reached Govindghat, the nearby town where pilgrims stayed as it was forbidden to remain at the temple overnight, it was nearing mid-December. For the last couple of weeks, every time Harry called home on the two-way mirror Gabriel and Lorna asked him to consider coming home for Saturnalia. The joy of magical travel meant it was easy enough, but Harry was unsure about leaving Theo and Anita, and while Theo said he didn't mind Flooing back to England for the holiday, Anita didn't want to.

In the end, they made a last minute decision. Harry and Theo left Anita at Govindghat with the other Sikh pilgrims and returned to New Delhi, where they took the international Floo hub back to England. Gabriel and Lorna greeted Harry with what felt like even more hugs and kisses than when he would come home after the winter term at Hogwarts. He didn't mention it; it was clear that his demon deal and impending death was heavy on their minds. They doted on him way more than usual, but Gabriel also took him aside one night and spoke to him about the deal, asking questions about exactly how he'd made it and what happened and about the demon Crowley.

"Are you trying to break the deal?" Harry asked him.

"I hope to, yes."

Harry nodded, but said nothing. He wasn't sure how he really felt about that. He knew he should be happy, but he'd accepted his death so completely and so long ago—since he faced Voldemort, if he was honest—that it was strange to consider the idea of _not_ dying before he turned eighteen.

Saturnalia was celebrated with even more vigour than usual that year. It had always been big because it was the time when most of the nest's vampires came to visit the manor, to see and pay respects to their Lord, often bringing gifts for not just him but also Lorna, Harry, and Tori. This year, with all the new vampires joining the nest after the war, it was even bigger. All the newcomers sought to bring the most impressive gift, eager to prove their loyalty and out shine all the others in the hope it'd gain them some kind of favour with Gabriel. Even Harry and Tori, who was back home on the twentieth, were inundated with so many gifts they didn't know what to do with them. Even after the twenty-fourth, when Saturnalia was officially over, vampires still kept coming.

On the first of January, Harry and Theo Flooed to New Delhi and made their way back to Govindghat to rejoin Anita. They stayed a few days and then headed off, venturing through Tibet, hiking the mountains and visiting the cities and Buddhist temples. On the sixth, they were at Lake Manasarovar and as Theo was taking pictures of the scenery, Anita leant into Harry and said quietly, "You know what today is?"

He nodded, tugging at his coat collar. Her words brought a chill that no amount of clothes or warming charms could dispel. "One year left."

"Regretting it?"

Harry watched Theo. He didn't like even minor public displays of affection, he still refused to share a bed with Harry overnight, and to the rest of the world they probably seemed like the least romantic couple in the whole world. But when they were alone together Theo would kiss him, deep and hard or soft and tender or one leading to the other. He would hug Harry so hard Harry's breath would catch, like he was afraid Harry might disappear, and then relax and shift his hands so one pressed splayed against the small of Harry's back and the other curled around the back of his neck. He would lie down and cuddle with Harry, sneaking a hand under his shirt to press his palm against Harry's chest or back, right over his heart. Every time it was like he was silently declaring _I love you_ , and Harry would kiss him back and return his hugs and trail his own fingers over Theo's scarred body, bury his face in Theo's neck, and whisper "I love you too."

"Maybe a little," he answered Anita.

They stayed a full week at Riznaan, the largest all-magic city in the world. Witches and wizards from all over the world now called it home. Purebloods who hated Muggles so much they wanted to completely isolate themselves, Muggleborns who'd fled a home ruled over by tyrannical purebloods, people of all backgrounds who'd been driven from their homes by magic-hating Muggles.

The city was open to all and it was the centre of the Tibetan magical government, but it was obvious from the out that the equal rights-supporting president wasn't able to keep the general public from having a clear split between Muggleborns and purebloods. There were entire districts dedicated solely to one or the other, and walking down the 'wrong' one put a wizard at serious risk of being cursed. Half-bloods were only welcome in the pureblood districts if they completely disowned their Muggle heritage, and were accepted but treated with distrust in the Muggleborn districts.

The major tourist, shopping, and historical areas were, thankfully, in 'neutral' parts of the city, but it still wasn't uncommon to walk down the street and hear slurs thrown. English had never developed a specific slur against purebloods, but various other languages had, most of which translated to insults about inbreeding and staying 'pure' by procreating with magical creatures.

"You know," Anita remarked on their second day, when they were at the Museum of Magical History and just seen a couple of witches get arrested for duelling in the restaurant, "when I heard there was a huge, all-magical city, I thought it would be a nice place. I guess it was naϊve to think city-wizards could be any less racist than city-Muggles."

Theo looked offended. "What's that supposed to mean? We're not racists; I've got nothing against coloured people."

"You're racist against Muggles and Muggleborns. When I got to Hogwarts, I thought wizards were better because almost no one had an issue with me being brown, and when someone did say something the teachers actually punished them properly and didn't just tell them off half-heartedly. But instead people took issue with the fact that my parents are Muggles, and here it's even worse than at Hogwarts. You know, there's places in London I can't walk down without risking my life because it's full of racist white people, and there's places that even if I wouldn't get killed I still don't feel safe. It's like that here, everywhere. Not even Harry could pay me enough to risk walking down that pureblood district we passed on the way here, and even in the main city I still feel unsafe."

She didn't even want to stay there a full week, but there was so much Theo wanted to see that she agreed to stay, but she did refuse to go anywhere alone, something she'd never had issue with before now.

As well as the museums, there were city tours to go on, a Yeti-spotting tour in the surrounding mountains (unsuccessful when they went, to their disappointment), the schools allowed visitors at weekends to view the historic buildings, and the university was always open to all. They even held lectures and workshops for tourists, some for free and some paid for, although places were limited and often had to be booked a month in advance.

All three of them attended a workshop on wandless magic that was held on their fourth day in the city. It proved hard, especially for Theo, who sulked when Anita proved apt at it. Harry didn't mention that she was cheating a bit, using her demon magic at times. He'd learnt to tell the difference by smell. A powerful spell sometimes left an after scent in the air, sweet or burnt or rotten, but whenever Anita used her demon magic it always smelt of sulphur. Even when she didn't use it, Harry suspected that it had given her an advantage in understanding how wandless magic was done.

«You have to learn to feel the magic,» said the professor, walking around the room as the twenty students of various ages and backgrounds tried to wandlessly levitate a wooden cup. Harry didn't know what language he was speaking, but the faint buzz beneath the words as the translation charm on Harry's ears worked told him it wasn't any of the languages he was fluent in. «Wands and staffs make it easier for you, they channel the magic so all you have to focus on is what you want it to do. With wandless magic, you have to focus on the magic itself as well. Whether you believe it comes from inside you, or from around you, or whatever origin theory you subscribe to, you must become in tune with it. _Feel it_ as you send it out to levitate the cup.»

«But what does magic feel like?» asked an upper-middle aged witch on the other side of the room to Harry, Theo, and Anita.

The professor smiled the smile of someone who's holding an ace up his sleeve. «Can anyone here tell me what magic feels like?»

There was a nervous pause as the students looked around to see if anyone else was going to answer, then a few hands cautiously lifted into the air, including Anita's.

«Yes?» the professor said, indicating a thirty-something wizard wearing the USA national team Quidditch robes.

"Like sand?"

«Good answer,» the professor told him in a tone that suggested it didn't necessarily mean 'right'. «You, young lady?»

"Vibrating pebbles," Anita said.

«Good, good. You.»

«Er... cold steam,» said a fifty-something wizard, and Harry wondered if the translation charm was struggling with his language until the wizard added nervously, «I know that's impossible, but...»

«No, it's an excellent answer.»

«But which one's right?» the first witch asked, and the professor's grin widened.

«All of them! You see, magic feels different to everyone. Not unique—there are people who describe it the same way—but I cannot say how magic will feel to _you_ , ma'am.»

"At her age, you think she'd have figured it out already," Theo said quietly to Harry, but the professor was nearby and overheard.

"Not at all, young man," he countered in accented but well-spoken English, although Harry didn't recognise the accent. "On the contrary, she's had longer to learn dependance on her staff, and staffs are even worse than wands for fostering dependance."

"I heard staffs can be more powerful if you're raised on them," Theo said unsurely. "Wouldn't that give you a better understanding of magic?"

"Not at all. Tell me—which origin theory do you subscribe to?"

"I'm not sure. Probably the magical core."

"Yes, that one is common in England; there and the United States, except among the Native Americans. But you see, staffs are more powerful because they store magic. In the case of a magical core, a wizard can transfer magic from themselves to their staff but they do it such a little bit at a time that they never feel it, and often they do it while asleep. I assume the English make jokes of staff users and their beds? They're common around here."

"Rude ones," Theo agreed, hesitant but relaxing when the professor chuckled.

"Of course. But even if they don't keep the staff in bed with them, they always keep it close by so they can..." he sought for a word, eventually said something in his native tongue that translated to 'charge it up', and continued in English, "If you subscribe to the theory of magic as an element in the air, then you can see that a staff user feels the magic even less—it passes through them briefly on its way to the staff, to give a connection to them, but they don't have to actually use it. And then when a staff user casts a spell, the magic in their staff never goes through them, not like a wand user. It only touches them briefly on its way out so it knows what the caster wants it to do. So, a staff user hardly feels their magic and someone who has been using one all their life will struggle to learn how magic feels now. Young people like yourselves, and wand users all, I see, have had less time to become accustomed to ignoring how your magic feels."

Anita cleared her throat and half raised her hand to get the professor's attention. "I've never heard much about staffs, but if they store magic and send it out when you do a spell then how do wands work? My teachers didn't cover that."

"A spell at a time. The user drives as much magic as they need through the wand when they cast the spell. That's why some say staffs are more powerful—an unskilled witch can use all the magic of a staff to cast a spell that they can't manage with a wand because they're not capable of directing enough magic through it in one go."

"You talk about magic like it's sentient," Harry said, and the professor nodded.

"I believe that, yes. You should consider attending one of the free lectures on magical theory, but excuse me, I must help the rest of the class."

"Can you feel the magic?" Theo asked Harry, frowning at his own hands and wiggling his fingers.

"I think so." He'd already managed to levitate the cup, though not as quickly as Anita. It surprised him given his usual ease at spell casting, but he realised that despite knowing which spells could be done without a wand, he always did use it and maybe he'd become dependant on it, like the professor described. He levitated it again now, a little wobbly as he focused on what it felt like. Now he was looking for it, he noticed it—it was like a ghostly ribbon slithering under his skin from his chest to his finger tips.

When he described it, Anita said, "I feel it all over, like I'm in a bath of tiny stones."

«If you're having trouble,» called the professor to the whole room, «do the spell with your wand or staff and try to focus on how it feels. Once you recognise the sensations, doing it wandlessly will be easier.»

He tasked those who'd got the hang of it with trying harder magic—Transfiguration, defensive spells, complex charms—and was extremely impressed by Anita, who really had a knack for it. Theo just managed to do the Levitation Charm by the end of the class, but he was determined to practice more and master it. Harry had a feeling he felt slighted at being so outclassed by a Muggleborn witch, even after going his whole school career being beat as top of the class by Hermione Granger.

After Riznaan, they went south east. There was little of interest to them in west Asia and the Middle East, although they planned to visit Egypt when they reached Africa. With Afghanistan still caught in ongoing conflict, a civil war happening in Iraq, and another one in Tajikstan, Gabriel and Lorna wanted them to avoid the whole area, so they went to Bangkok in Thailand, then Singapore and the Philippines before going down to Australia. They visited Perth first then took their first aeroplane trip to a Muggle resort near Uluru before another flight to Adelaide.

Theo said he didn't like country much. The Billiwigs, a magical insect whose sting caused giddiness and levitation, seemed to find him an excellent target, and he complained that there were not enough wizards and too many other far more dangerous animals who didn't even have the nerve to be magical. There were indigenous Australians who practised magic, but they kept it among themselves and there were very few wizards among the rest of the Australians. They didn't even have a school; young magical Australians had to pick a foreign school to attend—Japan was the closest, but others chose Brazil or the United States.

But they stayed a while and toured the east coast. Harry liked it, enjoyed the beaches and the atmosphere and scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Anita liked it as well and Theo said that while Australia didn't have much to appeal to him, he loved seeing Harry so happy, and he didn't complain too much about the lack of magical communities.

Theo did insist they take a trip down to New Zealand to see a colony of Antipodean Opaleyes. The NZ Dragon Preservation Society did flying carpet tours over the valley where the dragons resided, to raise money and awareness. It came with risks—they were, in essence, flying through dragon airspace—but Harry, Theo, and Anita were far from alone in considering it worth it. Antipodeans had pearly iridescent scales and multicoloured eyes like jewels, and seeing the sunlight catch them was one of the most beautiful things any of them had ever seen.

From Australia, they went up to Japan, which Theo really liked. There was a strong magical community outside Kyoto and the Kyoto School of Magic was hailed as having the best Dark Arts and Defence Against Dark Arts programs in the world. They produced a large number of what other wizards, especially European and North Americans, called dark wizards because they permitted the practice of magics that those places had outlawed, but Japan had never had a problem with truly evil wizards like Voldemort or Grindlewald, which made the arguments fall a bit flat.

But although Harry knew about this before they got there, it was still a bit of a shock to arrive and see the main shopping area housing stores selling the kind of items only found in Knockturn Alley, or adverts on a public billboard for the services of a necromancer. The translation charm Harry used to read it made the wording a bit awkward—they tended to be more literal than audio translations charms—but the message was clear enough. For 200 Galleons, someone in Kyoto would raise the ghosts of dead relatives for an hour.

"I want to do it."

"Is that a good idea?" Anita asked unsurely, looking between Harry and the advert. "Isn't necromancy the darkest of dark magic?"

"Says the girl who uses demon magic."

"I'm just saying," she muttered defensively.

"It's only ghost raising," Theo said, reading the advert. "I think that's the simplest of necromantic magics. A lot of places use it for solving murders and disputes over wills, although in England at least there's really strong rules about who's allowed to do it and they're monitored to make sure they don't start using worse necromancy."

"There, see," Harry said, gesturing at Theo. "Perfectly safe. It's not like they're offering to bring people back to life."

Anita was still unsure, but Harry spoke over her when she tried to object again. "I'm doing it," he insisted, then dropped his voice. "I missed visiting my birth parents' graves on Hallowe'en, and I'm dying in less than a year and I'm not going to the same place they are. I want to talk to them."

* * *

Easter fell at the end of March that year so the three weeks of Hogwarts spring holiday began on the twenty-first. There were always more students staying behind than there were at winter break, especially among the fifth and seventh years who took the chance to study for their upcoming examinations. And most of them _did_ study, nerves and anxieties driving them to ignore the slackers who tried to insist revision could wait until after the holiday.

On the night of the twenty-third, Gareth headed up to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster wasn't there, but Gareth took a seat and waited for him, making conversation with the Sorting Hat and the portraits until Dumbledore returned.

"Gareth, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were waiting," Dumbledore greeted, moving around to take his seat behind the desk. Gareth waved the apology off.

"It's fine, Albus. I never sent a messenger."

"Nevertheless, I was doing nothing important. Tea?"

"Something stronger?"

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow in question but fetched a bottle of mead and two glasses, pouring a generous helping in both and passing a glass to Gareth. "Everything's alright, I hope?"

Gareth sipped the mead. "Everything's fine."

"This is just a social visit then?"

"No," he admitted. "I wanted to tell you something."

Dumbledore gestured for him to speak at leisure, leaning back in his chair and watching Gareth with polite interest, sipping at his own drink.

"There's another Key Point coming that I wanted to mention to you."

"You wanted to? You weren't very keen to tell me about the last." He didn't say it as an accusation, just a statement of fact. Gareth shrugged.

"You'd have tried to interfere with the last."

"You don't think I will with this?"

Gareth shook his head. "No. We're friends, Albus. I know what you're like—you, not just Albus Dumbledore in general—and I'm fairly confident in my understanding of you and the choices you'd make in certain situations."

"I shall endeavour not to disappoint you then. So. The Key Point."

Gareth looked at his glass, swirling the liquid before lifting it to his mouth and draining it, then set the glass down. He met Dumbledore's eyes across the desk and said quietly, "You should put your affairs in order."

Dumbledore said nothing. He held Gareth's gaze for a moment then looked down at his own glass, but didn't drink. "When?"

"Before the end of the school year."

Dumbledore sighed and finished his drink then poured another for both of them. "I suppose if I asked how..."

"I don't know. Given the way things have gone, probably naturally."

"Some would call an accident 'natural', for certain definitions of the word."

"You're destined to die, Albus. Fate demands it, just like Cedric Diggory, just like Lily Potter. It's unlikely someone's coming to kill you in this timeline, so Lady Fate will kill you some other way and you, unlike Cedric and Lily, have the advantage of old age. You can die in your sleep or from a heart attack. You don't want to know some of the ways I've seen Cedric and Lily die. A quick death at Voldemort's hand is a mercy for them."

"Cedric Diggory has died at Voldemort's hands?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore sighed. "You shame me, Gareth."

"Wasn't my intention."

"Thank you for the warning. I would like to ask, however, is the date set or just sometime between now and the end of the year?"

"It's set. Mostly. Why?"

"I wouldn't want to die in front of the students. Mostly?"

"There's one circumstance in which it changes: if I kill you."

Dumbledore looked at him curiously. "Surely, then, it is not a Key Point."

Gareth shook his head. "It is, because as long as I don't then you will always die on this certain day. The same thing works for Cedric and Lily. What's weird though," he went on before Dumbledore could comment on what he'd just confessed to, "is that the date of your death is different than it was for the Dumbledore in my original timeline. I killed him on the twenty-fourth of June nineteen ninety-four, but in every other timeline Albus Dumbledore dies in ninety-seven."

"Unless you kill him first."

"Yes. I wonder if I hadn't killed my Dumbledore, if he'd have died this year in my timeline, too."

"If my death date is so set, there is no reason he shouldn't have," Dumbledore agreed. "Perhaps these Key Points are predestined despite your time loop, rather than because of."

"That's a depressing thought," Gareth sighed. "If that's the case, how in hell am I meant to break my loop?"

"I presume you have tried not interfering at all?"

"Oh yes. Do you know how boring it is to spend nearly twenty years living in cave with no human contact and nothing to amuse me but the things I can conjure from thin air?"

"Food?"

"Rats and pigeons. _Rats_ , Albus."

"My sympathies," Dumbledore said, but there was a twinkle of amusement in his gaze. "It's certainly a conundrum and I wish I had some way to help you."

Gareth waved a dismissive hand. "It's not your problem."

"I consider it my concern, however. You're my friend, Gareth. It pains me to know you're stuck in such a state." When Gareth merely smiled faintly in reply, Dumbledore finished his drink and put aside his glass. "I noticed," he said, "that the date you killed the Albus Dumbledore in your timeline is the same date Cedric Diggory died in this. Is there any significance to that?"

"If you're asking whether I killed him, the answer's yes." Gareth paused, looked away, lowered his voice. "You, him, Draco Malfoy, and thirty-seven other students."

Dumbledore couldn't help the shocked intake of breath. Gareth avoided his gaze.

"Why?"

"Because Voldemort told me to."

"But why?" Dumbledore insisted. "I understand it wasn't your fault, you were Bound to obey your orders, but why did he demand their deaths? Me, I understand, and you've told me about Draco Malfoy, but why the others?"

Gareth sighed, lifting his gaze to meet Dumbledore's apologetically. "Because they stood by you. There was no fight, Albus. Voldemort walked into Hogwarts, ordered me to disarm and restrain you and protect him from any and all spells, and announced that he was taking over the school. He said that Dumbledore would die, but the rest of them could live." His voice was full of bitterness as he recounted the story. "But those dumb, loyal kids stood by him and said we would have to go through them to get to Dumbledore."

There were tears falling from Dumbledore's blue eyes. "The teachers?"

"Oh they did it too, but Voldemort said teachers were too important and too difficult to replace. Children, on the other hand, were a dime a dozen. He told me to kill Dumbledore and any child who stood by him. He gave them a chance—at first, half the school was standing at Dumbledore's defence, and he said they could step aside or die as an example of what happened to people who stood against him. When they saw he was serious most of them moved away, and some of them did when Dumbledore demanded that they not die for him. But not those thirty-nine. I think some of them were just being _brave_ ," he couldn't help sneering the word, still distressed after all these years that they hadn't stepped aside when they had the chance, "but I could see that others just didn't believe I'd really kill them."

"It wasn't your fault, Gareth."

He shrugged, a self-depreciating smile on his face. "Still feel the guilt of it, Albus. I was just Voldemort's weapon, I'm well aware of that, but I'm a weapon with a conscience. It still makes me feel bad to see them sitting in my classroom knowing that in another time and place, I murdered them."

"I'm sorry, Gareth."

He waved the apology away. "But it's why I don't understand Cedric's death so much. Of all those thirty-nine kids, why is he the only one that keeps dying in every other timeline? I might almost get it if it was Draco, he was important to me, but why Cedric Diggory?"

"I have no answer for you, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, wiping at his eyes, "except that again perhaps these deaths are predestined regardless of your time loop."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a sigh, and stood. "I'll warn you the morning of the day of your death, so you can avoid the students. Excuse me, I have essays to mark."

He didn't wait for a reply, merely turned and swept out, leaving Dumbledore to look sadly after him.

* * *

Harry took the money to pay the necromancer from the Potter Gringotts vault. He also tried to go alone, but Theo and Anita refused to let him, so after booking an appointment all three of them arrived at the home of Shinichi Kimura.

Harry tried not to fidget as he entered the house, removing his shoes and following Kimura through to the sitting room and taking a seat on the floor, Theo and Anita on either side of him. He hadn't mentioned this visit to Gabriel and Lorna last time he called home on the two-way mirror, and a part of him felt sort of guilty for keeping it from them, as if contacting his birth parents without his adopted parents' knowledge was some sort of betrayal. But he wasn't sure what their opinions on necromancy were and he just wanted to keep this to himself for now.

"You will have to come into the summoning room alone," Kimura told Harry after taking his payment, and Harry nodded, silently glad for the command. "The presence of others will disturb the ritual. Did you follow the instructions and drink the potion I gave you three days ago?"

"Yes," Harry said, his stomach rumbling to confirm it. He'd been allowed to eat only a small amount of certain foods and drink only water, wasn't allowed to smoke, and had to bathe repeatedly in enchanted waters. He couldn't cast spells on himself, which is why Kimura spoke to him in English and Harry didn't have a translation charm on his tongue, and Kimura had given him a potion to drink every night that had tasted like rotten meat, but Harry had done it all.

"Good. You understand that as you have brought no object to focus the ritual beyond your blood, the only people I can summon are your immediate family—parents, siblings, children."

Harry nodded again. Parents were all he had to summon.

"Follow me."

The summoning room was not, to Harry's surprise, grim and foreboding. It was actually almost identical to the previous room except there was no electric lighting, a cabinet on one side held a human skull, and there was no table for them to sit around. On the floor in the middle of the room was a wooden bowl, a knife, and a potion vial of pearly iridescent liquid. Kimura told Harry to take a seat while he closed the curtains and lit the candles set around the room (with matches, not his wand) then he sat opposite Harry.

"When the spirits are summoned, I will fall into a trance. You must not touch or move me, or the spell will be broke and the spirits will leave. It will last about an hour. You can move around during that time, but you must not leave the room or even open the door. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Drink the potion."

Harry did so. After the last three days, he expected it to taste foul, but it was surprisingly bland and tasteless. Kimura picked up the knife and took Harry's hand, cutting a deep line across his wrist, avoiding the artery, and shifting his hand so the blood dripped into the bowl. "Do not panic; you will not bleed out. You may feel a bit dizzy during the casting."

Harry nodded, but Kimura kept a hold of his hand whilst using his other to pick up his wand and began casting a long incantation. It was in a bastardisation of ancient Japanese dialect, Harry's mind informed him before a wave of dizziness hit. He vaguely felt Kimura's grip tighten on his wrist while his head lolled, the room spinning around him. Kimura's voice distorted, one moment distant and barely audible, the next as if he was whispering right into Harry's ear, the next as if shouting from across a crowded room. Harry felt the slithering ribbon sensation of magic crawling around his arm from his bleeding wrist, circling about his biceps then slipping around his shoulders, up the back of his head, and then around the sides to his eyes. Sudden darkness enveloped him, but it didn't frighten him and it lasted for only seconds.

When he could see again, three new figures stood around the room. Harry gaped at them, barely noticing Kimura now sitting stiff and statue-like opposite him, eyes staring unseeing at the space in front of him, no longer holding Harry's wrist.

"I-I don't understand," Harry said, looking between the three spirits. Unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts, they were not grey and ghastly, but full colour and only slightly transparent, and they bore no marks of their deaths.

The spirit of James Potter sighed and turned to glare at Severus Snape. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Snape glared back. "No, I didn't."

Lily Potter moved first, coming to kneel by Harry, smiling gently. She looked just like her pictures, still so young. It suddenly struck Harry that she had been only five years older than he was now when she died.

"Hello, sweetheart."

He swallowed thickly. It was one thing to imagine seeing the ghost of his mother, something else entirely to actually speak to her. "Hey, Mum."

It felt a little strange calling her that because Lorna was his mum now, but calling her Lily to her face felt even more wrong.

"It's so good to see you, Harry. And look at you, all grown up." She reached out a hand and Harry's breath hitched as her ghostly fingers brushed against his face, across his scars. She felt like the ghosts at Hogwarts, cold as the lake in winter, but he didn't care. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too, Mum."

He looked away as James come over, sitting cross-legged beside Lily and grinning at Harry. "Heya, Prongsl-"

"Don't you dare!" Lily yelled, making Harry and James jump as she whirled on James, a finger pointed at his face. "Don't think being dead means you get to use that ridiculous nickname."

James spluttered. "Come on, Lils, it's not that terrible!"

"Oh yes it is. I told you when we were alive and I'm telling you now—I don't want to hear that name."

James quailed. "Yes, Lily."

Behind Kimura, Snape made a whipping noise. James glared around at him. "Shut up, you. You don't get to speak when you kept secrets from the kid."

"What secrets?" Harry asked, but he had a suspicion.

Lily sighed. "The secret of your parentage. James isn't your birth father—Severus is. I made a mistake and cheated on James one night, and you were the result."

Harry looked between her and Snape, gaping. To actually hear it said aloud left him momentarily speechless, but it also prompted another question and he focused on James, trying to wet his mouth and get his voice working again.

"But then why did the ritual summon you as well?"

"I adopted you, three days after you were born. Complete blood adoption, so I'm just as much your dad as Snape here. More so, if you ask me, given that I was the one changing your dirty nappies and teaching you to walk."

The information whirled in Harry's mind. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked Snape. "All the times I came to stay with you..."

"You didn't need to know," Snape said unapologetically. "I disowned you, Harry. I expected you to get raised by Lily so I would never be anything to you."

"But you were!" Harry cried. "I loved you, I looked up to you! You should have told me!"

"Why?" Snape asked harshly, folding his arms over his chest. He hadn't moved from the spot where he appeared. "I was not a father, Harry; I was never cut out for that. Those summers were all I could manage. Even if I was suited to it, you're protected by powerful magics at your aunt's home. It protects you from the Dark Lord."

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed. "You don't know. None of you know, do you? About what happened in the world after you died?"

"No," confirmed Lily. "We can't see what's happening in the real world, we can only get news from the newly dead. Why? What has happened?"

"I'm not living with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon any more, for one. I haven't since I was seven."

Snape frowned, looking concerned. "After I died?"

Harry nodded. "Not straight away, but the next January I... there was an accident," he said, unwilling to confess the truth to them. He wasn't sure how they would feel about him killing Lily's brother-in-law. "Vernon died and I ran away from Little Whinging. I got picked up by two vampires—no, it's okay!" he added when James sucked in a sharp breath, Lily's eyes widened, and Snape jerked sharply. "It's okay, they didn't hurt me. In fact, they adopted me. Gabriel and Lorna Valentine. They took me in and looked after me and officially adopted me when I was ten."

"Officially?" Snape asked sharply, finally moving closing and crouching down, expression concerned.

"Not a full blood adoption," Harry explained. "But they filed papers with the Ministry and everything so it's official on paper, and I took their name. Harry Potter-Valentine. I-I hope that's okay."

Lily nodded, but James looked wary. "Are you happy with them, Harry? Do they look after you properly? Have they ever hurt you?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No, I swear. They've never hurt me."

"Have you ever been checked for the vampire seduction?" Snape asked.

"Yes. I was put under it once by a completely different vampire, but I took the potion to get rid of it. They really do care for me and Tori."

"Tori?" Lily repeated. "Who's Tori?"

"Victoria Valentine, my sister. She's adopted as well, obviously. The Valentines have had her since she was a baby, though. She's the same age as me and she's pretty good for a sister. We get on well."

"It sounds like you found a good family, Harry. I'm really glad, and of course we don't mind that you took their name."

James vigorously nodded his agreement. Snape gave a brief nod when Harry caught his gaze, but then shifted back slightly, putting some distance between himself and the other three.

"So tell us about yourself, kiddo," James said. "What's been going on since Snape died, except getting adopted by vampires? Do you know how Sirius is? And Remus—crap, has anyone realised the truth about him yet?" he said urgently. "He didn't betray us to Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew did."

"I know, it's okay. We found out because Pettigrew was hiding as a rat, pretending to be the pet of one of the kids in my year at Hogwarts. We found him when we made Chatty Chimp Decoctions at the end of first year—"

"Who let you do that?" Snape interrupted. "That's hardly relevant to your coursework. Who's teaching Potions now?"

"Gareth Martin. He's Head of Slytherin too." He wondered whether to tell Snape that Gareth wasn't really his cousin, but that wasn't his secret to tell, he was feeling a little bitter towards Snape right now, and explaining the time loop would waste what precious moments he had with his parents.

Snape snorted. "I'm not surprised he lets you brew that sort of thing."

"Are you done?" James asked shortly. "Can Harry continue with his story now?"

"James," Lily chided gently. "Carry on, Harry."

"Well anyway we realised that Ron's rat—that's the kid he was pretending to be a pet of, Ron Weasley—was more intelligent than all the other animals and Gareth put him in a cage and called some Aurors—including Sirius, he's fine by the way, he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for a year—and they made Pettigrew transform and got the story of what really happened out of him. Then he was arrested and got given the Dementor's Kiss."

"HA! Serves him right, the little bastard."

"James!" Lily cried.

"What? He sold us out to Voldemort, Lils."

"I do know that, but I still don't believe anyone deserves the Dementor's Kiss. That's a horrible thing to happen, even to someone terrible."

"Your opinion, not mine. I say that rat deserved it."

Lily scowled at him, but looked to Harry. "What about Remus? Is he still in the coma?"

"No, he woke up a few years ago."

James and Lily whooped with joy, but Snape frowned and said, "And the relationship between you two?"

"What d'you mean, Snape?" James said, looking between him and Harry. "It's good, right? Remus is your godfather."

"I know."

"But he's also a werewolf," Snape pointed out, still staring at Harry, "which is what left those scars on your face. Did it infect you?"

"But that wasn't Remus!"

"No, it didn't infect me, and I know it wasn't Remus, but..."

James' cheerful expression fell. "You don't hate Remus, do you, kid? Remus would never hurt you."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I don't think I _hate_ him, but he scares me and I don't want him in my life. I don't really need a godfather anyway. I've got Mum and Dad—Gabriel and Lorna—and Jennifer and Gareth and my sister and friends. I'm sorry, I know he was your friend, but I just..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lily said while James continued to look stunned, "but I understand, Harry. It must have been terrifying to get attacked by that werewolf."

"But it _wasn't_ _Remus_!" James insisted, apparently still stuck on it.

"It didn't matter!" Harry half-yelled back. "I was _seven_! Seven years old and I watched that monster tear Severus to shreds and then it chased me down and nearly killed me. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is? I wet the bed for months afterwards and I had nightmares for years—sometimes I still do! I get that Remus was your friend and you think the best of him, but to me he was always just the monster that betrayed you to Voldemort, and even after we learnt the truth he was still a monster. I couldn't just shrug off years of terror and welcome him into my life. If that bothers you, I'm sorry, but it's the truth and I can't change it."

James huffed, looking hurt, and said nothing. Lily looked upset too, but more like she was sad about Harry's life going that way than because she felt he should forgive Lupin.

"Since when do you call the Dark Lord by his name?" Snape asked, breaking some of the tension.

James shot him a dirty look. "Since he's _our_ son and we're not too scared to speak it like _some_ people."

Snape returned his look. "He has always been your son, but I taught him to call the Dark Lord exactly that."

"Yeah, well he probably learnt better in Gryffindor."

"Um..."

James looked at Harry. "Not Gryffindor? Ravenclaw?"

He shook his head. A slightly desperate tone entered James' voice. "Hufflepuff?"

"No."

James wailed. Lily rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, James. There's nothing wrong with Slytherin."

James ignored her. "My son in Slytherin! What did I do to deserve this? I knew I should have become a ghost and stuck around to guide him on the right path."

"I like it in Slytherin," Harry said sullenly, noticing the smug smirk the words elicited from Snape. "It was nice there."

"Was?" Lily repeated. "How old are you? Eighteen?"

"Sixteen, but I'm—taking a year out from school," he lied. Telling Gabriel and Lorna about his demon deal had been hard enough; he couldn't explain to these three that he had less than a year to live and wouldn't be joining them, wherever they were, because he was destined to hell. "Me and a couple of friends are taking a trip around the world."

"Alone?" Lily asked, frowning. "Just three of you? And you're all sixteen?"

"Anita and Theo are seventeen now. We're fine. I have a two-way mirror and I call home every two days. It's okay, really."

"What about Voldemort?" She glanced at Snape. "Severus seemed to think he was still a potential threat when he died."

"He was, but he's not anymore. He's properly dead now," he told them, and condensed the story of Voldemort's death as much as possible to keep the story quick. He had about half an hour left and he wanted to talk about better things than killing Voldemort, even if it was nice to be able to tell Lily and James that revenge had been had for their deaths.

So he told them about his life, about school and home, about his friends and Theo, blushing the whole while and hoping that none of them were homophobic. James looked a bit sceptic about the asexual thing, but Lily said it was perfectly fine if that was how he felt, and Snape said he sort of understood because for the most part he never felt any sexual attraction either. Lily had carefully not looked at him when he said it and James had scowled heavily, so Harry guessed that 'for the most part' meant 'for no one except Lily'.

When the hour was running out, he reluctantly said his goodbyes. Up to that point he'd been fine, but having to say goodbye knowing that he was never going to see them again, even when he died, was harder than he expected. He tried not to cry, but when he saw tears on Lily's face and tried to hug her only to go through her, he cracked, tears spilling down his face as he fought not to give into big sobs. James patted his shoulder. The sensation didn't help much but he appreciated the gesture.

"You'll be alright, Harry," Lily said softly, cupping his cheek in one chilly hand. "You're strong, you've got another family who loves you, you have your friends. We'll see you a long time from now when you die, alright?"

That only made the tears come more, but he gave a jerky nod and closed his eyes when she leant in to press a ghostly kiss to his cheek. "I love you, sweetheart."

"We both do, Harry," James said, his fingers touching Harry's hand. "You just have a good long life. Maybe give Remus a chance, and say hi to Sirius for me but tell him he's a wanker for attacking Remus like he did, and he better make it up to him or he's getting an arse kicking from me when he dies, no matter how old he is."

Lily rolled her eyes, but smiled at Harry. "Tell your parents that we're grateful to them for looking after you," she said, then: "Severus? Don't you have anything to say?"

Harry didn't open his eyes, but he heard Snape clear his throat. "Look after yourself, Harry," he said a little awkwardly, paused, then added quietly, "I'm proud of you."

"We all are," Lily said, and then—

Silence. A sob forced its way up Harry's throat.

Kimura gasped. Harry started, eyes flying open. He'd almost forgotten the man was there, he'd been so still while the ghosts were present. Now Kimura blinked a few times and shook his head before focusing on Harry. He didn't look surprised to see him crying.

"I will give you a minute," he said kindly, getting up with a slight grimace and a crack of joints popping and heading out the room.

Harry closed his eyes again, bending forwards to press his forehead to the floor mats, trembling as he struggled not to wail and scream with despair, to keep from dissolving into a full blown sobbing fit. It took a few minutes before he straightened up, dried his eyes and conjured a tissue to blow his nose on, and then got to his feet. He took a deep, shaky breath, wiped his face once more, then left the room.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** John, Dean, and Sammy Winchester are from the TV show _Supernatural_.

 **Chapter 31**

After Japan, Harry, Theo, and Anita headed to Alaska and then down through Canada, where they saw Re'em and moose. The Re'em were bigger and, with their golden hides, more impressive to see, but the moose were more common and freely wandered into urban areas while the Re'em stayed in the wild, which made the moose scarier. The three of them hadn't realise the creatures were so _big_.

They passed through Canada fairly quickly. There wasn't much they wanted to see there, Theo complained about the cold, and Anita wanted to reach New York in time for Vaisakhi.

"You've never celebrated that before," Theo remarked when she told them about it.

Anita gave him a dirty look. "Of course I have, it's pretty much the most important Sikh festival there is. It just always fell in the Easter holiday at school so you never knew."

They entered the United States on the tenth of April and spent a couple of days at Salem, where the magical notices and information about the witch trials took a very different view of things that the Muggles did. Places that, for the Muggles, were tourist sights and information points were, for magical people, memorial spots and dedications to the dead. The Salem Witches Institute sat twenty miles outside of the city, but they couldn't see it because visitation was strictly prohibited and controlled. The locals had long memories.

They Flooed into New York on the twelfth. Harry and Theo didn't accompany Anita to the Gurdwara the next morning, but they came to watch the Vaisakhi parade that was held. They remained in the city for a week, seeing the sights and visiting the magical district.

Despite the size of America, they had a relatively low number of wizards, so they only had a magical district in New York and an all magical town set in Area 51—or Magerra, as it was known to the magical community—which was also the location of the Ministry of the Magic Headquarters and the only magical hospital in the country. Oddly for their numbers, they had three separate schools: the Salem Witches Institute, the Magerra Academy, and the US School of Magic, in Montana.

Because the magical numbers were so low and the country so big, there were very few Floo ports that gave wizard tourists ways to get around. As such, they took an 'air trip'—a road trip on brooms. It was common among tourists who couldn't Apparate and among Americans themselves, although unlike in Britain a lot of American wizards learnt to drive. They ingratiated themselves with the Muggles a lot more than many other countries, but they also had the highest number of incidents that risked the International Statute of Secrecy.

Harry loved it. They had certain routes they had to keep to, there were areas that they weren't allowed to fly over at certain times of the day or at all, and they had to put spells on themselves every time they went up to hide themselves from Muggles, but he loved it all. In Quidditch, flying was a means to an end, and while he'd often gone out at Hogwarts or at home to just fly around, the sense of freedom he got from swooping around the open country was amazing. He didn't care that sometimes they flew for miles on end without seeing the scenery change, or that even when they ventured south and the weather improved it was still bitterly cold in the air, or that their butts would go numb from sitting on a broomstick for so long, he still loved it.

They visited most of the major cities, saw all the sights, and learnt more about American history than the three of them combined knew before—not hard when Hogwarts barely touched upon British Muggle history, let alone elsewhere. They went white-water rafting in Oregon, snorkled in Florida, hiked the Grand Canyon on foot, and stayed at a Colorado ranch that housed winged horses alongside the normal ones. Theo, who was not a big fan of flying even on broomsticks, positively loathed riding the winged horses and after the first venture refused to have another go.

Most of their nights were spent at decent hotels, but occasionally they stopped at a motel. Anita said this was a good thing because apparently 'no tell motels are an important part of American culture—the skeevey side of it'. Theo said it was horrendous and only did it because the other option was another two hours of flying and he'd already lost feeling in his backside.

They were staying at one in some small town in Nevada in mid-May and took dinner at a diner, which Theo also complained about. "Harry has enough money to buy this town, why can't we eat somewhere nicer?"

"I don't think there is somewhere nicer," Harry replied, sliding into a booth, Theo beside him and Anita sitting opposite. "It's a tiny town, I don't think they have much more than this."

"Swear to Merlin, this place is going to kill me," Theo grumbled. "Or at least give me indigestion."

"You got a problem with our food, English?"

Harry and Theo twisted. In the next booth there was a couple of other teens, both boys, one about their age with short fair hair and leather jacket, and a lad of about twelve with darker hair and an expression suggesting he wanted to stuff a sock into the older boy's mouth.

"Dean, leave it," he muttered. Dean ignored him.

"Come on, English. You got a problem with our food?"

"Yes," Theo said, "I do. It's greasy and full of fat and your meals are too big."

"So go back home."

"I intend to. We're gone in a couple of weeks."

"Dean."

Dean glanced around at the younger boy. "What, Sammy? I'm just making conversation."

"You're picking a fight." Sammy looked past Dean to Harry and Theo. "I'm sorry, please ignore my brother."

"It's fine," Harry said as Theo turned away and picked up a menu. "Dealt with worse since we been here."

Across the table, Anita snorted. "Yeah, that _good ol' southern charm_ ," she mocked in a passable imitation of a southern accent.

A flicker of sympathy crossed Dean and Sammy's faces. "Not a fun place," Dean remarked. "Sorry about that. No one as pretty as you should get hassled by dicks."

Harry glanced around to see Anita's reaction to this. She smiled faintly, but her expression made it clear that she didn't care for his come on.

"I appreciate the concern, Dean. Excuse me." She got up and headed to the bathroom. Dean watched her go.

"Don't bother," Harry said. "She's not interested in you, trust me."

"Maybe if she gets to know me..."

"Still won't be interested."

Dean eyed him. "She your girlfriend?"

Harry laughed, feeling Theo nudge his leg against Harry's. "No, she's not my girlfriend. You're just not her type."

"Dude, I'm everyone's type."

Sammy groaned. "Dean, stop it. You're embarrassing me."

Dean rolled his eyes, but gave Harry a brief smile before turning away. Harry turned his attention to his own menu, but Theo had a point. A lot of the American food was greasy and oversized and Harry was sure he was putting on weight. It didn't help that flying, as fun as it was, couldn't actually be called exercise.

Anita came back and they ordered and ate, then walked back to the motel. It wasn't really a bad place. Their room was clean, the beds weren't too uncomfy, and the shower worked. Harry called home and then Anita put on the TV to wile away the evening and Theo pulled out one of his notebooks and wrote. He was still working on the novel he'd mentioned to Harry years ago and he still refused to let Harry read it, but he shared a few of his short stories. They were really good, in Harry's opinion, covering a variety of topics but all with a reoccurring theme of finding peace.

The next day they flew the 200 miles to Reno. There, to appease Theo, they found the nicest hotel and the most expensive restaurant for lunch. After, they wandered around, not going anywhere specific. They saw some of the casinos, but were too young to get inside.

"I've never understood gambling," Anita said. "It's basically just throwing your money away on the tiniest of chances that you'll win more."

"I guess some people think it's worth it," Harry said with a shrug, but he'd never been one for gambling either, not unless it was a bet he was absolutely certain of winning. Gabriel had always said they had too much money to risk losing it on guessing games.

They were wandering along the river when they almost got hit in the head with a football. ("Hand oval," Anita corrected. "Footballs are round and you kick them. Americans are just stupid.") It came flying over from a group of older teens playing catch and would have smacked right into Anita's head if Harry's reflexes hadn't been so fast. He caught it an inch before it slammed into her.

One of the players jogged over. "Sorry, guys! Nice catch though, dude," he said as Harry tossed the ball back to him. "You play?"

"No, I just have good reflexes."

"Oh, hey, you're English! Wait a sec..." The guy stepped closer, tossing the ball between his hands and grinning. "I know you guys. From Madrid, right? Last summer?"

Harry recognised him then as well: the guy who'd saved him from amorous Amy. "Yeah, hey, nice to see you again. Uh... Josh?"

"Jasper, but it's cool, 'cause I totally forgot your name."

"Harry. This is Theo and Anita."

"Cool. So what you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be at school or whatever? You're still only like sixteen, right?"

"Seventeen," Theo corrected him.

"Me and Theo anyway," Anita said, making Harry scowl. "And we're taking a year off from school."

"World trip," Harry explained. "Europe wasn't enough for us."

Jasper laughed. "Oh yeah, I remember you telling me. Hey, you know what, we're having a party to celebrate the end of finals tonight. You guys should totally come."

"Uh..."

"Sounds good to me," Anita said, grinning at Harry and Theo. "We've been sight seeing and visiting museums and stuff for months. We could do with a party."

Jasper grinned. "Awesome. Here—" He dug in his pocket and pulled out a pen then took Harry's hand and wrote an address on his palm. "This is where it's at, party starts at like seven, but it'll go all night so just turn up whenever."

"Yo, Jasper, you playin' or what?" someone called over.

"I'm coming, man! Jeez. I'll see you guys later. Oh, and Harry? You wanna get laid tonight you can totally go ahead now. Only gotta be sixteen in Nevada!"

"Uh... great. I thought you said it was seventeen?"

"Back home in Missouri, but not here, man. We'll totally find you a hot chick, alright? See you tonight!"

"I don't think this is a great idea," Theo said as Jasper rejoined his friends and the three of them moved on. "And what are finals anyway?"

"I think it's their end of year exams," Anita told him. "And you're just worried some hot chick will steal Harry away."

Theo scowled. "I am not."

"I'm not going anywhere with any hot chicks," Harry said. "Really, _really_ not interested."

Anita rolled her eyes. "Well I wouldn't mind finding a hot chick, and it'll be fun. I meant it about going. I've enjoyed the sight seeing and nature tours and museums as much as you two, but a party would make a nice change. We could hang out with some people our own age. Near enough, anyway. I think they're university students."

"Alright, it might be fun. Theo?"

"I guess. With any luck someone there will have some pot."

* * *

They worried they wouldn't be able to find the house, but they were able to get a bus to the end of the street and from there they just followed the noise. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree and the music was so loud Harry had to duck into the shadows between two houses and put a sound dulling spell on his ears before he could enter the house. Even then, the noise was almost physical as they walked through the open front door.

"They're insane," Theo yelled as they stood just inside the entrance and looked around. It was only quarter past seven, but the party was in full swing and from the looks of it some of the guests had been drinking for hours already.

"It makes our post-OWL party look like afternoon tea," Harry agreed.

"It looks like fun," Anita said determinedly. "I'm not letting you guys ruin it."

She dragged them through the noise and people until they reached a drinks table. Here they found Jasper impressively managing to pour drinks and dance at the same time. He greeted them with a cheer and a grin.

"Good to see you, guys. Help yourselves to whatever you want. Looking like a good one, eh?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, just to avoid sounding like a wet blanket. "Really... energetic."

Anita was more genuinely enthusiastic. "It looks great. We never had parties like this back home."

"Ahh, that's just high school for you," Jasper told her. "Trust me, when you get to university it'll be awesome parties all the time. We haven't even really got going yet."

Theo looked alarmed. "You haven't?"

"Hell no. Party like this doesn't truly begin until the girls turns up! Once Zeta Mu Upsilon get here, then we're really on."

Someone called his name then and he told them to have fun before charging off. Theo watched him go with a look of bafflement.

"Aren't zeta, mu, and upsilon Greek letters? What does that mean? I swear this country is more confusing than any we've been to before despite speaking English."

"Maybe it's just all the drink," Harry suggested. "Or maybe he's high."

"He's not drunk—well he might be," Anita said, "but he's not talking about Greek letters because he's drunk. They have groups here called sororities and fraternities, exclusive clubs for certain students and they all use Greek letters for their names."

Theo didn't look any less confused. "Uh huh. Like I said: weird country."

Anita rolled her eyes. "Just go find some pot, Theo, it'll make you better company. _I_ am going to go dance."

She didn't wait for a response, just pressed her way through the heaving throng until she reached what passed for the dance floor and was lost to their sight.

"It'd be bad of us to leave her here, wouldn't it?" Theo asked Harry, who grabbed a can of coke and took him by the hand.

"Yes. Come on, she's right. You're happier when you're high and someone here must have some weed."

It didn't take them long to find. Theo seemed to have an unerring skill for finding people who had what he wanted and five minutes later he was settled with a group of other stoners. Harry didn't join them, figuring that as Anita was intent on having fun, even if she never drank, then he should keep his head clear in case of trouble, so he wandered through the house, listening to bits and pieces of conversation in the quieter areas, eventually ending up outside and finding a space of wall to lean against as he lit up a cigarette. There was a swimming pool in the garden and he watched people lounge about in swim suits or push their friends into the water. He was halfway through the cigarette when someone approached him and he looked around to see Dean from the diner the day before.

"Hey," Dean greeted.

"Hey."

Dean took the greeting as invitation and came closer, leaning beside Harry and drinking from a large red plastic cup. "I gotta say, you English surprised me."

"How so?"

"Being here, for one. Not exactly a tourist destination."

Harry shrugged. "I sort of know one of the hosts. He invited us, we figured we might as well. What else surprises you?"

Dean gestured to the cigarette in his hand. "Honestly? I heard your friend—who I just saw smoking a bong with the stoners; didn't see that coming—say you were loaded yesterday and figured you were those snotty, stuck up types. Not the kind I'd expect to see smoking cigarettes behind a frat house. And you weren't kidding about me not being your friend's type. I saw her making out with some chick." He paused, shifted slightly, and added, "It was pretty hot."

Harry snorted. "If you say so."

"What, you don't think two chicks making out is hot?"

"No more than anyone else making out. I don't really care about that kind of stuff."

Dean grinned. "See, that's more like it. I heard the English are all prudes. I mean, your friend obviously isn't, but... what's her name, anyway? And yours?"

"Harry, and my friends are Anita and Theo."

Dean held out a hand. "Dean Winchester. So how long you been in America for? Your friend said you're going home in a couple of weeks?"

Harry shook his hand. "Not home, just heading down to Mexico and then South America. We're doing a world tour."

"Nice. You start here? In the US, I mean."

"No, Scandinavia. We did mainland Europe last summer, went home for a bit, then headed through Russia, Asia, and Australia before coming here."

"Awesome. Your parents don't mind you coming to a party like this? You're not college-aged, are you?"

"I dunno, what's college age? I think our college is different to your college."

"Like eighteen and up."

"Then no, I'm not. And I've no intention of telling my parents I came to a party like this."

"Where do they think you are right now?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. They're still back home. It's just me and my friends on this trip."

Dean gaped, turning to face Harry fully. "Seriously? They let you do that? Just... jet around the world alone?"

"Took some convincing, but yeah." Dean still looked so stunned that it made Harry feel oddly defensive and he added, "I'm dying, they were a little lenient with me. It's not like I can't look after myself."

Dean snapped his mouth shut. "You're dying?"

"Brain tumour. Less than a year left."

"Shit. Sorry, man, that sucks."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well." He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, taking the chance to ignore the growing awkwardness by looking around for somewhere to discard the butt.

"Just toss it," Dean suggested. "Everyone else does."

Harry hesitated, but there were a number of cigarette butts already littering the floor so he flicked it away. Before he had to make more conversation or excuse himself, a loud cheer rang out from the house followed by the music cranking up. He grimaced at the increase of noise, but Dean grinned.

"Sorority girls are here." He noticed Harry's expression. "Dude, that's a good thing."

"More noise is a good thing?"

"It's a _party_. Noise is kind of a requirement."

Harry waved a dismissive hand. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a party pooper. Ignore me."

"Does it really bother you that much?"

"I have sensitive ears. I didn't expect all this to be so loud. I'm just going to—" He broke off, staring as a large group of... _things_... poured out the back door, to many cheers from the rest of the party goers, especially the men. They all had a pink armband with ΖΜΥ embroidered in white on their right arm—an arm that was long, greenish, and decidedly inhuman. Their legs were the same, while their bodies were short and oddly proportioned, their torsos almost perfect triangles, and their heads were long and oval, with oversized eyes and mouths like a sharks.

"Dude, are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"A ghost wouldn't be so scary," Harry replied, his voice coming out in a high-pitched rasp.

"Why? What's wrong? What is it?"

"Can't you see them? The monsters?"

Dean looked around, surprisingly serious and not instantly accusing Harry of being crazy or drunk. "Where?"

"Everywhere! All those—they just came in! The ones with the pink armbands!"

Dean's gaze fixed on them. "The sorority chicks?"

"I thought chicks meant girls!" Harry cried, bordering on hysterical now.

"It does! Wait, shit." Dean dropped his drink and grabbed Harry by the arms, spinning him around to face him. "These monsters—are we talking greenish, long limbs, lots of sharp teeth?"

Harry nodded, a sense of relief hitting him like a sledgehammer. "You can see them too?" he asked, because it seemed like no one else could. Already every single one of the monsters had at least one—in most cases, two or three—boys hanging around them, acting as if the monsters were the most beautiful creatures they'd ever seen.

"No, but I know what they are. And it's all the chicks—the ones wearing the pink armbands?"

"Yes. Am I hallucinating?"

"Harry!" He turned. Theo shoved his way out the door, looking around and then hurrying over when he saw Harry. He was exceptionally pale and shaking and he grabbed Harry's hand. "Harry, please, we need to go. They put something in their weed, I'm seeing fucking monsters, I need to get out of here."

"You can see them too?" Dean asked urgently.

Theo blinked at him. "You're that guy—"

"Yes. You can see the monsters?"

"Uh... yeah. Like I said, the pot must be laced with something."

"Did you smoke some of that?" Dean asked Harry, who shook his head, but Theo's panic was easing his own and he was guessing that he and Theo could see the monsters because they were wizards. It didn't explain why Dean knew what they were talking about though, unless he was a squib or Muggle relative of a magical person.

"Okay, you're not hallucinating," Dean said urgently. "You're just... special. I can't explain right now, we have to save everyone. Shit. I was expecting a couple, not a whole fricken sorority of them."

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone, shoving it into Harry's hands. "Call nine-one-one, give 'em this address, and tell 'em some crazy dude is waving a gun around."

"But that's a lie, I can get arrested for—shit!"

Dean pulled a gun from the back of his jeans. "Not exactly a lie. Do it! I need to make sure no one gets killed."

"You've got a gun!" Harry cried, but Dean threw it over the hedge into the neighbours garden before running off. Harry faintly heard him say, "Dad's gonna kill me," before he vanished into the house.

"What the fuck's a gun?" Theo asked. "What the hell is going on?"

"Muggle weapon, very dangerous, and I have no idea," Harry answered, hitting 911 and then 'call' on the mobile and lifting it to his ear. He heard screaming from inside the house, a few crashes, and then the music gave out just as the call connected. He did as Dean said and got confirmation that the police were on their way then hung up.

People were streaming out of the house in a panic now and attention was diverted from the monsters. He and Theo, holding hands so as not to get separated by the crowd, fought their way to the door and looked in to see Dean get tackled to the floor by half a dozen other guys. The drinks table and music system had both been overturned and the guests not fleeing the house were pressed against the wall, trying to avoid the fighters.

Across the room, Harry saw Anita standing between another girl and one of the monsters. His conviction that being magical is what let them see the monsters wavered when the creature slid one of its green arms around Anita's waist and a long, pink tongue flicked out and caressed her ear, and rather than pull away Anita giggled and pressed closer to it. Harry hesitated to react, wondering if maybe he was hallucinating, if someone had slipped something in his drink or he'd caught a whiff of the weed before he left Theo with the stoners, but Dean had seemed so sure that it was real as well and Harry would rather spoil his friend's chances with a girl than risk her getting eaten by some monster.

Still gripping Theo's hand, he pushed his way across the room. He had his wand on him, hidden under a charm to keep the Muggles from seeing it, but if he was hallucinating then threatening the monster with it would be useless, so he took a leaf out of Dean's book and just jerked the monster around by its shoulder and punched it.

"Harry!"

He ignored Anita's outraged yell, shaking his hand and gasping with pain. He hadn't fought anyone since the scuffle that precipitated his runaway from the Dursleys, and he hadn't expected the punch to hurt _him_ so much.

"Can't you see it?" Theo asked Anita, grabbing her when she tried to defend the monster from Harry.

"All I see is Harry hitting a girl for no reason. Let go of me!"

Theo thankfully didn't, but the monster seemed mostly unaffected by the punch. It turned away from Anita and punched Harry back with enough force to lift him off his feet and knock him onto his back, stars flashing across his vision and head spinning. He groaned, pushing himself up and deciding this definitely wasn't a girl. No human could hit that hard unless they did it professionally, and he doubted sorority girls were professional boxers. He didn't know what the monsters wanted, but so many of them around a bunch of Muggles was probably excuse enough for him to use his wand and not get arrested for it.

He didn't get chance. The monster lifted him off the floor by his collar, with all the ease of picking up a bag of sugar, and slammed its knee into his gut then, when he bent up wheezing, into his face. He felt his nose break and blood spill over his mouth, his head spinning even worse and making him feel nauseous. The monster let go and he crumpled to the floor, his vision just a blur of colour now, and then something slammed into the side of his head and everything went black.

* * *

He woke up in a hospital. He had a concussion, a broken nose and split lip, and some hefty bruises and he needed to stay overnight, but it was nothing that he couldn't recover from. He asked about Anita and Theo, but was told he couldn't see them until the cops had come to talk to him.

That was worrying in itself—if his parents found out, they were going to flip—but it was more concerning when instead of a regular police officer, the man who came to see him wore a suit and identified himself as an FBI agent. He was dark haired and had a short beard and a kind enough smile, but Harry had to worry when a federal officer was asking questions about him getting into fights with monsters.

"Hi, Harry, my name's John. I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the party tonight. I understand you met my son there. Dean?"

"He's your son? Did you know he was carrying around a gun?"

He realised he might be getting Dean in trouble if John didn't know, but he felt it was something he should probably mention. Teenagers shouldn't be carrying around guns, and John himself would probably get in trouble with his bosses if they discovered his son was carrying around a gun.

But John smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes. I've spoken to him about that. He told me that you saw monsters at the party."

"Yeah," Harry admitted reluctantly and John sat in the chair by the bed.

"I know your friend Theodore did too, but he's obviously been smoking pot whereas the nurses tell me they found no drugs in your system. Can you describe what you saw?"

Harry did so, watching the man carefully, but John gave no sign he thought Harry was making things up and he didn't seem surprised by what he was hearing, so when Harry was finished he asked, "Are you a wizard?"

He'd heard there were wizards hiding amongst Muggles, especially in America and other places with a large difference between Muggle and wizard numbers. But John quirked an eyebrow. "A wizard? No. Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to get the nurse?"

"No, I'm okay. Sorry, it's just been a rough night. But you believe me about the monsters, don't you?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Why do you believe it?" John asked back. "You've seen monsters, but you don't think it's a hallucination and you're not freaking out."

Harry touched his scars. "I've met monsters before."

John's eyes looked over the old wounds. "What was it?"

"Werewolf," Harry said carefully in case that made John suddenly decide he was delusional.

"Sorry to hear that. Didn't bite you, I take it?"

"No, thankfully. You know about werewolves then?"

John nodded, smiling again. "And all the other inhuman monsters out there." He glanced around at the door then leant closer to Harry's bed. "Tell you the truth, I'm not actually a federal agent. I'm a hunter. I hunt monsters," he clarified at Harry's blank look.

"You _hunt_ them? You actually go out and look for them to kill?"

"Yep. Someone has to, to protect all the people that don't know about them."

Harry narrowed his gaze. "You kill vampires too?"

"I don't need to, they're practically extinct."

Harry opened his mouth to correct him, then changed his mind. Hunting down werewolves was one thing, but if this man thought vampires were extinct Harry wasn't going to enlighten him otherwise so he'd start hunting them, too. Gabriel had mentioned that America had a lot less vampires than Europe and Asia, and they had a different breed of them, too.

But even though he hated werewolves, something in him objected to the idea of someone actively hunting them down. Self-defence was one thing, and Harry was all for registration so the Ministry could keep an eye on them, but to actually go out and _look_ for werewolves to kill... it struck some nerve in him. He didn't like the feeling, but it was there. Maybe Lily and James' comments in Japan had got through to his subconscious.

"If you knew about a werewolf who was comatose and couldn't hurt anyone even when he turned, would you kill him?" Harry asked the man.

"In a heart beat. He could wake up at any time. Why? You know one like that?"

"No," Harry answered honestly, and he wasn't willing to examine the dislike he felt towards a man who'd kill a comatose werewolf so he just asked, "Isn't pretending to be a cop illegal?"

"Yep, but don't bother trying to tell anyone. I've got a very good fake badge and you've got a concussion and a story about seeing monsters; which one of us do you think they're going to believe?"

He had a point there.

"Are you going to hunt down those monsters from the party? Do you know what they were?"

"I'm going to try, but it sounds like there's a lot more than I was expecting when I came to town so I'm going to have to call in some back up. As for what they are, they're succubi."

" _Oh_." Suddenly it all made sense. He'd read about succubi years ago as part of his Defence Against the Dark Arts theory study and there were reports that a very small percentage of the population, both Muggle and magical, could see their true features. The book he'd read said there was no known reason why this was, that it seemed to be just random, but Harry had a sudden suspicion. After all, one thing he and Theo had in common was their asexuality, and succubi were creatures of lust. It made sense that people who didn't feel sexual attraction would be unaffected by the creatures' glamour or whatever it was that made them appear as beautiful women to other people.

"You know about succubi?" John asked.

"Yeah, I studied them—uh, in a mythical creatures course at school," he added quickly. "And I think my friend Theo and I can see them because we're asexual."

"Asexual? What's that?"

"We don't feel sexual attraction."

John frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I don't look at a pretty girl and want to make out with her or have sex or anything."

"You're gay."

"No, I don't feel it with boys, either. I don't feel it with anyone." John still looked confused so Harry explained, "You know when you see a really pretty sunset and or a gorgeous flower, you appreciate its beauty but you don't want to kiss it?"

"Obviously," John said, sounding as if he was starting to think Harry might be crazy after all.

"Well that's how I feel about people."

"Really?"

"Yes."

John looked as if he still didn't quite believe it, but he didn't argue it anymore. "That would explain why you could see their true faces. I'd heard there were people who could, but I've never met anyone who did. Asexual, huh? I guess you learn something new every day. Just one more question: _all_ of the succubi were wearing the pink armband of the Zeta Mu Upsilon sorority? Alright, thanks for your help," he said when Harry nodded. "Don't worry about it any more, I'll handle it from here. Your friends should be able to see you now."

Harry nodded and watched him leave. When Theo and Anita came in a minute later, he made them shut the door and told them everything John had said. Theo was horrified that there were Muggles who knew about magical creatures and hadn't been memory charmed; Anita was horrified there were people who hunted down magical creatures.

"You realise you were being targeted by one of the succubi?" Theo pointed out. "Do you know what those things do to you?"

"Not really," Anita admitted.

"They're basically cousins to the Dementors. They suck your soul out while they fuck you, only they have the decency to kill you afterwards."

"The decency?"

"Yes, because dying is better than living without a soul."

"I think we should tell the Ministry," Harry said. "The American one. It can't be right that there's a Muggle running around hunting things like that. They'll want to memory charm him. I could Apparate—"

"No," Theo interrupted. "You've got a concussion and I know you're not meant to Apparate with a concussion. It can wait until morning."

"I think he might be going after the succubi tonight."

Theo shrugged. "That's his problem, not ours."

"He could be killed," Anita said.

"Still not our problem. He's a grown man, he can do what he likes."

"Would you say that if he was a wizard?"

"Yes. This is nothing to do with being a Muggle or wizard. Harry said this man makes a living chasing after monsters; if he thinks he can handle a succubi nest, best of luck to him. It's not our fault if he dies because he got cocky."

They spoke a little longer before the nurse came and said Anita and Theo had to leave. They left reluctantly, but Harry assured them he'd be fine. He was a bit less sure when they left and he was alone in a strange hospital room in a foreign country, aching from the beating he'd taken. For the first time since leaving England, he felt homesick, but he didn't have the two-way mirror or his mobile phone and he wouldn't call home even if he did. The last thing he needed was Gabriel finding out he was in the hospital.

He eventually slept after being given some painkillers that knocked him out, and was released without trouble the next morning after being prescribed some more painkillers. He had travel insurance that covered the cost of the treatment and he just hoped the insurance company wouldn't send a letter home mentioning anything about it. His parents had paid for it, but it was in his name and he knew all medical things were meant to be confidential, even for minors, so hopefully any letters would at least be addressed to him and he trusted his parents not to open his mail.

Theo and Anita met him at the hospital, but they took a bus back to the hotel, discussing what to do about John Winchester. Harry was the only one that could get anywhere quickly and he convinced them to stay at the hotel while he Apparated to Magerra, on the promise that he would visit the Ministry and the hospital to get his injuries healed more than the Muggles could, and then he'd come straight back.

He visited the hospital first, a beautiful building that didn't look like a hospital from the outside. He waited an hour to see a nurse who double checked his head—wizards were able to find subdural haematomas and subarachnoid haemorrhages that Muggles couldn't—healed his broken nose and split lip, and gave him some bruise cream. He was left to lie on a bed for fifteen minutes as the cream took effect then he was released as good as new.

The Ministry building was a sprawling two-storey complex. It had less security than the British one; they just scanned him with a secrecy sensor and asked to see his passport then waved him in. An information desk directed him to the department for Muggle management, where another receptionist took his name and asked him to take a seat until someone was ready to see him. He waited half an hour, reading out of date magazines, before a harried looking witch called him up to a desk in a room with a dozen others. He took a seat opposite her and she gave him a tired smile.

"How can I help you, Mr Potter-Valentine?"

He explained what happened at the party, the succubi, and everything John Winchester said to him. She listened without speaking, made a few notes, excused herself to check some files in a large filing cabinet across the room, spoke to someone in a fireplace, then came back.

"The Magical Beings department was made aware of the succubi nest last night; we're aiding in disguising the deaths from the Muggles, but thank you for giving us some more details that I can pass on."

"What about the Muggle?"

She shrugged. "He's a hunter."

"You mean you know about him?"

"Of course. He's not the only one, there are dozens around the whole country. We keep an eye on them in case they prove troublesome or start to learn too much, but that's it."

"But what about the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Like I said, we interfere if they start to learn too much about the wizarding world, but most of them just focus on subhuman creatures."

"You mean part-human."

"No," she said with a sigh, "I mean subhuman. Look, Mr Potter-Valentine, what you have to understand is we've got huge numbers of hybrid creatures and experiments gone wrong that have bred or infected humans before we could get them under control, and almost all of them feed on humans—our blood, our flesh, our souls—or they're just homicidal monsters, and almost all of them target Muggles the most because they know they're easier prey. But we've only got about three times the amount of wizards that you British do, in a country that's forty times as big. There simply aren't enough of us to handle these creatures, so the Muggle hunters are a big help. We'd be a lot worse off without them, believe me. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Harry shook his head and left, still stunned by the information. No wonder America had so many infractions on the Statute of Secrecy if they let Muggles go around hunting monsters.

Today wasn't one of them; when he got back to the hotel the TV was playing in the main room, showing a news report of a gas mains explosion at the sorority house for Zeta Mu Upsilon, which Harry assumed was the US Ministry's way of covering up the killing of, at least as far as the Muggles knew, a group of perfectly innocent young women.

Theo, when Harry got back and told them about what he learnt, was outraged, violently objecting to the idea that Muggles knew so much about the wizarding world and claiming that the whole of the US was a backwards country. By contrast, Anita agreed with the idea.

"It makes sense. If they really do have such a problem with monsters, why not let the Muggles sort it out?"

She and Theo started arguing about it and Harry ignored them, heading into the bedroom of their suite to lie down for a bit. He wasn't sure what he thought of the Muggle hunters, but he was more concerned by the uncharacteristic sympathy he felt towards werewolves being hunted down. He'd gone his whole life hating werewolves; feeling anything but fear and dislike was novel, and not in a good way. He didn't know why and he didn't like it. What was the point? He was going to die in less than eight months; it was a bit late to change his opinions.

Unless, of course, Gabriel managed what he'd promised and found a way to get him out of his deal. He still wasn't sure what he thought of that. It was true that the closer his due date came, the more he despaired at having to leave behind Theo and his family, but a large part of him still accepted his death as inevitable, and he didn't know how to let go of that. He'd had it for years now and he thought that, unless he had absolute confirmation that he wouldn't die next January, he'd never be able to let go of it, and as long as he couldn't let go of it he also couldn't get behind the idea of trying to avoid his death. It was conflicting to say the least.

* * *

On the morning of Friday the thirteenth of June, Albus Dumbledore woke up to find a note on his bedside table that read simply, in familiar handwriting, _Today_. He sighed softly, but otherwise gave no sign of distress.

He rose and washed, dressed in his favourite star-studded purple robes, and brushed his hair and beard. He made his bed, didn't bother to order breakfast, and then headed out to his office. He finished some letters of business that he set aside for delivery, wrote a few personal ones that he placed carefully on a shelf in his sitting room, and made sure his paperwork was all complete. He tidied up a bit, exchanged a few words with the portraits, and passed an hour at the window, looking out across the school grounds and the surrounding mountains.

McGonagall came to see him during lunch break, asking why he hadn't been at breakfast or lunch and accepting his reassurance that he simply had things to attend to that day and didn't wish to eat in the Great Hall. She mentioned that three second year Ravenclaws were in the Hospital Wing with rabbit ears after an incident in one of her morning classes, remarked that Gareth appeared unusually sombre, and suggested, as always, that they interfere with the inevitable post-OWL and post-NEWT parties that would occur that evening. Dumbledore expressed his faith that Madam Pomfrey would fix the rabbit ears, assured her that Gareth's mood would likely pass, and insisted that the fifth and seventh years deserved to spend the night celebrating.

"Yes, but I wish your brother wouldn't sell them alcohol to do it. At least one of them always finds a way to sneak into Hogsmeade."

"Minerva, I could not stop him if I tried. I have never been able to control Aberforth, but I know he gives them nothing stronger than cider, and the seventh years are legally old enough to drink."

"Not on school grounds," McGonagall insisted. "It's against the rules and you shouldn't let them."

"It is tradition, Minerva. Students have been sneaking in alcohol since before my student days. Besides, I seem to recall your year group threw a particularly raucous post-NEWT party in which the Head Girl—"

"That doesn't make it right," McGonagall interrupted, but her cheeks flushed and she let the matter drop.

He attended to a few more matters of business as the day wore on, but it was a quiet day and he found himself with very little to do. He had visits from a few other teachers who had things to discuss with him, but by dinner time he was pacing the office and his attached rooms, regretting that the house elves were so efficient at their work. Some cleaning and tidying felt like the right thing to do.

In the end he retired to his sitting room, put a record on the gramophone, took his favourite book from the shelf, and settled down in an armchair to read. When he realised he was checking the clock every five minutes, he put the book aside and resigned himself to just listening to the music, still keeping an eye on the old clock on the mantelpiece.

He didn't mean to fall asleep, but his body had other ideas and when he finally took his last breath, it was twenty-three minutes past eleven.

* * *

From the US, Harry, Theo, and Anita took a seven-day cruise around the Caribbean before they went down through Central America, and then into South America where they visited a few cities before venturing into the Amazon. Brazil hosted the second largest all-magic area in the world: the floating town of Cidágua, anchored on the Amazon river, centred around their magical school Navio da Educação. It sat at the centre of an area of extremely strong currents that, combined with protective spells, ensured any boats steered wide of the town and kept it hidden from Muggles. It was completely unconnected to the Floo network, making it only accessible by Apparition or air travel. Rio de Janeiro hosted the country's international Floo hub, but it provided access for foreign tourists to Floo to the domestic hub in a small magic district in Santarém, where several places rented out broomsticks and provided regular flying carpet taxis to Cidágua.

While the appeal of Riznaan in Tibet was the isolation and the magical university, much of Cidágua's appeal was as a holiday destination and in providing wizarding tours of the Amazon basin, which was just as intriguing to wizards as it was to Muggles. Areas of the forest that Muggles considered inaccessible could be reached by magic and housed creatures just as dangerous, if not more so, as the non-magical spiders, snakes, and fish, but there were still parts of the forest that even wizards couldn't traverse.

After Brazil, they went to Argentina, including a visit to see the Iguazu Falls; Chile, with a brief stay in the Torres del Paine National Park; and then the Falkland Islands, to see some penguins in their natural habitat, before they finally left the Americas for Africa. They Flooed into Cape Town in South Africa at the start of July and spent three weeks in the south and east of the continent.

They visited a handful of cities, but most of their time there was spent on safari. As well as the various non-magical creatures, they were able to see brightly-coloured Fwooper birds (timed trip, to avoid being affected by the insanity-inducing effects of listening to their song for too long), Streeler snails (incredibly beautiful to see an entire escargatoire changing the colour of their shells), and Nudu (from the air where they couldn't be touched by the highly poisonous breath). The only thing they couldn't see were Erumpents because it was mating season, which produced a high number of explosions and was deemed too dangerous for tourists.

The last week of the month took them north into Egypt. The major magical district of the country was in Alexandria rather than Cairo, but tourism to the pyramids of Giza was even bigger among wizards than it was in Muggles.

"Weird," Anita said when they learnt this fact from a guide. "I'm starting to wonder if minor insanity is a natural state for magical people."

Theo was both surprised and vaguely offended. "Why?"

"Because the parts of the pyramids that the Muggles are allowed in aren't covered in curses, but we wizards will pay a ridiculous amount to tour the areas where we have to wear protective charms just to walk through without growing a second head. You have to be a little bit crazy to want to do that."

On Harry's birthday they used the Alexandria international Floo hub and returned to England. They only had Iceland left to visit, but Harry's parents insisted he come home for his birthday, and they were going to spend a couple of days there before going to Iceland for a week, with Tori accompanying them now she was on her summer break.

For many young wizards, their seventeenth birthday was the most important and an ideal opportunity for a large party and getting raging drunk. Harry had little interest in such a thing, settling instead for a small family celebration, and the day didn't even mark an ability to now do magic outside of school. It was also the last birthday he would ever have, which made him even less interested in making a big deal out of it. Birthdays were meant to be celebrations of growing up, not a reminder that he had less than six months to live.

Not that it wasn't eventful. It was the first they heard of the death of Albus Dumbledore, a shock to hear but not as much as what Tori had to tell him after lunch, when she practically dragged him into her room, shut the door, and put a silencing charm up.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked, pulling out her desk chair to sit while she perched on the bed.

"No. Everything is so not alright."

"What's wrong?"

She groaned, head falling back as she stared at the ceiling. She didn't say anything for a long minute in which Harry grew more concerned, then she sighed, stood up, and tugged her shirt up to reveal her stomach. Harry's eyes bulged.

"You're... is that... you've put on weight?" he said weakly, hopefully. She dropped her shirt and sat back down.

"Funnily enough, yes. It's an unavoidable side effect of being pregnant."

"Um..." He cleared his throat, glancing at her stomach again, but her shirt was big enough to disguise the slight bulge to her stomach. "Do Mum and Dad—"

"No. I don't know how to tell them!" she wailed. "Dad's probably gonna flip."

"He'll be shocked, but I don't think he'll be angry," Harry countered.

"Not angry that I'm pregnant at seventeen? I've not even finished school yet!" She rubbed at the back of her neck. "Besides... there's also... um... I don't exactly know who the dad is."

"... oh."

"Don't _judge_ me!"

"I'm not!" he insisted quickly. "I'm not judging. I just thought you only ever... had a relationship... with Tyler Swift."

She made a wordless noise of disagreement. "You know we've always been on and off, and we were off for a couple of months around Easter and I had a bit of a thing with Logan Sparrow."

"A _bit of a thing_?"

"Shut up, Harry. My point is we were together a couple of months, but this was his last year and he said the relationship was a distraction from his NEWTs, so we broke up and I got back with Tyler. But I had break-up sex with Logan and I had get-back-together sex with Tyler and I don't know which of them is the dad."

"Oh. Didn't you use the Contraception Spell or the potions or a condom or something?"

She looked away sheepishly. "I've been on the potion since I had that scare last summer, but I got a tooth abscess and it turns out the antibiotics interfere with the contraceptive potion and I didn't realise until too late."

"Obviously."

She glowered at him.

"Sorry. Did you tell Logan and Tyler about this? And did you wonder about having an abortion?"

To his horror, her eyes welled up at that. "Yes," she whispered. "I feel really bad about it, but I actually brewed the potion that you can use in the early stages. You only need a spell-potion combination after nine weeks, but I couldn't drink it, and not just because I realised that making medicinal potions for myself isn't the best idea in the world. I just couldn't do it." She inhaled shakily and wiped her eyes. "But no, I haven't told Logan or Tyler. Only Lisa, Padma, and Madam Pomfrey know, and Hannah, the midwife that Madame Pomfrey put me in touch with at Saint Mungo's. But Tyler isn't exactly father material and like I said, Logan's left now. He's going to Riznaan University in September and I think he might be one of those guys who feels obliged to stay with a girl just because she's pregnant, which would be stupid of him when it might not even be his and we can't find out until after it's born, and I don't think I'd want a long term relationship with him. Honestly, I'm more worried about Mum and Dad. I have to tell them. I think Mum's already getting suspicious. Will you help me?"

"Help how?"

"Just come with me when I tell them."

"Of course. When?"

"... now?"

He nodded. Gabriel was in his study and Lorna in the east wing, but Gabriel fetched her when the two teens asked to speak with them and they moved to the family room. Tori struggled to say her piece, but when she finally had, Gabriel and Lorna's reactions weren't half as bad as Tori expected. They were clearly displeased that she didn't know who the father was, but they didn't say so and Lorna was openly joyous about being a grandmother.

"You're not mad at me?" Tori asked them. "Don't think I'm too young and should have finished school?"

"I think it would have been better, yes," Lorna said, sitting with her on the sofa and clasping both Tori's hands in hers, "but accidents happen and we're not going to be mad at you for it."

"Your mother's right," Gabriel agreed with a reassuring smile. "We'll support you through this, Tori. Have you thought about how it might affect your schooling? Do you know how far along you?"

"You'll at least have had it by the time you take your NEWTs, unless you want to take the year off?"

Tori shook her head. "I'm already at sixteen weeks, I'm due in January, and Madam Pomfrey said students can continue with their classes even when they're pregnant, but something has to be arranged for what happens when I've had it."

This stunned them; Lorna's eyes went wide. "You're that far along already? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I was scared of how you'd react, I'm sorry."

Lorna hugged her. "Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that we made you scared of confiding in us."

"As am I," Gabriel said, leaving his own seat to crouch in front of Tori, hands on her knees and looking up at her earnestly. "I suspect it's my reaction you feared the most, and I'm very sorry for that, Tori. You're my daughter; I never wanted you to be scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you, Dad. I've never been scared of you. You were just pretty adamant that summer before fifth year when you said you didn't want me getting pregnant under your roof. I figured you wouldn't be too happy about me doing it anywhere else, either. I thought you'd be angry, but I wasn't _scared_ of you."

"I'm glad. I will admit, I'd have been happier if this occurred when you were older, but what is, is, and we'll deal with it."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Harry, Tori, Theo, and Anita spent the second week of August in Iceland. Harry found it the most relaxing part of their whole trip, perhaps because there was no pressure of a timeline to keep to or more places to move on and see. They also didn't do many high-energy activities; mostly they walked or rode horses to appreciate the landscape, marvelled at the sky still being bright at ten o'clock at night and never really getting properly dark, took whale spotting tours, and bathed in the Blue Lagoon.

The mood among the four of them was a lot different, too. Tori was a notably less outgoing and was very self-conscious about her body; previously an avid bikini-wearer, she now only wore a one-piece swimsuit and baggier clothes than usual. Harry asked if she was ashamed about being pregnant, and regretted it when she yelled at him, but after she calmed down and apologised she still insisted she wasn't, she just didn't want people judging her for being a teen mum.

Theo was also different. He was more affectionate than usual, going so far as to hold Harry's hand and kiss him on the cheek a couple of times in public, more than he'd ever done before. Even behind closed doors he was more touchy-feely. Harry didn't say anything, but he suspected Theo was as aware as he was of the ever shortening time that they had together and that come September they would be separated for three and a half months. Theo already said he would come to Lynott Manor for the winter break.

Anita's mother had sent a letter to Lynott Manor for when they returned and Harry didn't know what it said, but she'd been unhappy ever since. He also suspected she was beginning to feel their lessening time and, despite insisting she accepted what was coming, that she didn't really want to die. He noticed on the few occasions they came across a dog in Iceland, she eyed them as if expecting them to suddenly leap at her, but she'd never shown a fear of dogs before.

And Harry was worrying. He worried about his friends and sister, about what to do for the next five months, about what Gabriel might do, or had already done, to try and get Harry out of his deal. He returned Theo's affection with interest, kept an eye on Tori, and mentioned to Anita that Lynott Manor was open if she needed a place to stay until January. She smile thinly and thanked him, but said she was going home when they got back to England.

"My mum's seeing someone," she confessed on the last day of their trip. "She said she's thinking of marrying him and she wants me to meet him and his kids. She wants to make up with me."

"That's good."

She shrugged and said, "Maybe," but changed the topic when Harry asked why.

They returned to England the next day and Anita then caught the train to London despite Gabriel and Lorna offering to have Ada drive her down. Tori and Theo's Hogwarts letters had come, but neither looked very happy to see them. Theo waved away any concern Harry expressed, but it was easy enough to figure out why he wasn't happy. Harry just hugged him tighter and kissed him deeper when they cuddled, because there was really nothing either of them had to say that hadn't already been said.

Tori was more vocal about her unhappiness. "Everyone's going to be really judgemental."

"You don't have to go," Harry pointed out, but she shook her head.

"It's my last year and I don't want to put it off. Besides, everyone will find out about it anyway—I can hide a pregnancy, but I can't hide a baby, and it's not like I could lie and say it's Mum's even if I wanted to do that—and if I don't go to school this year it'll look like I'm embarrassed or ashamed and that's worse than Lavender Brown calling me a slag, even though everyone knows she shagged Ron Weasley last Hallowe'en." She laughed when Harry pulled a face, but sobered up again. "I'm going to ask Tyler if he doesn't mind telling everyone it's his, though, so at least they can't make a big deal out of the father issue. He's coming over tomorrow so I can tell him."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Mum and Dad let you invite over your sometimes-boyfriend?"

"They're not letting him stay the night, but I'm already pregnant, Harry, what more can happen?"

"Good point."

* * *

Telling Tyler wasn't that hard for Tori, at least not after Lorna saw her getting nervous before Tyler arrived and promised that if Tyler reacted badly, Lorna would risk a brief exposure to the sun to personally kick him out on his arse. It wasn't just that she was willing to hurt herself for Tori, it was the reassurance that she and Gabriel would always be willing to help and protect.

And Tori was going to need all the help she could get come January. Madam Pomfrey told her she was allowed to continue classes for the duration of the pregnancy, for as long as she felt capable, that she could come back when she was ready after the birth, and that the teachers would owl her schoolwork to her during the time she took off, but she wouldn't be permitted to have the baby live at Hogwarts with her when it was born. She would have to discuss with her parents, Professor Flitwick, and Headmistress McGonagall as to what arrangements would be made—whether she would live at home and Floo in and out of the school every day for classes, or go home at weekends, or quit Hogwarts entirely and study for her NEWTs privately.

There was afterwards to think about, too. She'd never really thought much about what she wanted from life; ambition had never been one of her defining traits and the future was always just a bridge she planned to cross when it came. The only thing she'd ever truly wanted was to become a vampire, but other than that... she'd like to see the world, and studying the kind of magics that Hogwarts didn't teach was interesting, but she couldn't say they were things she wanted with a great passion. Even playing the violin had always just been a hobby, something she loved, but not something she'd ever wanted to make a career out of.

But a baby changed things. It wasn't just her life she had to worry about now. She didn't want to be a stay at home mum, but she was going to have to put some real thought into what she did do because she couldn't just wing it anymore. If she travelled the world, she'd have to consider how having an infant would alter things—her schedule, where she could go, the difficulties of travel when babies couldn't go through Floo. If she did advanced studies then she'd have to deal with the stress of studying while looking after a child, would have to find somewhere for them to stay while she was in classes and lectures, just as she had to figure it out right now for Hogwarts.

She still had every intention of becoming a vampire, but she was starting to wonder if maybe she should wait instead of being turned when she was twenty-one. Her own upbringing was proof enough that vampires could be great parents, but she couldn't help remembering the times when she had wished that her parents could go outside with her in daylight, wished they could take her to all the places that Jennifer did. Tori loved Jennifer and always had, but sometimes she just wanted to have her parents there with all the others. She wanted to be able to do things with this child that her parents couldn't do with her.

The whole situation had made her take a good look at herself and her life, forcing her to introspect in ways she never had before. She reluctantly admitted that she might have been a bit irresponsible when it came to her relationships with Tyler and Logan, that she was perhaps a bit more immature that she'd previously thought herself. There was nothing like suddenly having the responsibility of looking after a child to highlight just how unprepared she was for that kind of adulthood.

She used to scoff and sneer at girls like Lavender Brown for being shallow, interested only in boys and make-up. She thought herself better than them because, as much as Tori liked boys and make-up herself, she was a dedicated student, a prefect, and well connected. She kept track of all the school gossip, but she did so just for the sake of knowing things, not so she could whisper behind the backs of the unfortunate and kiss the arses of the popular. And while her choice of boyfriends might not be perfect—Tyler did have a well-earned reputation as a player, not someone to settle down with—at least she dated people with brains in their heads.

But did it really make her any better? She was still a gossip with more interest in her place among the student body than in preparing for the future, despite her consistently high grades. Maybe if she'd spent less time talking about everyone else, she might have come up with some idea of what to do with her future. If she'd been a bit more careful about her relationships then she might not have ended up in this situation. Lavender Brown, for all her poor choice in boys, wasn't the one who was pregnant at seventeen and unsure who the father was.

Her friends, Madam Pomfrey, and Hannah, her midwife, had all mentioned the possibility of adoption, and Tori had thought about it, but she decided against. Her pregnancy might be an accident and she might be a little young for mothering, but it was still her child and she wasn't giving it up. With the baby due on the day the second term began, she planned to do the full first term at Hogwarts then let the winter break be her pre-birth maternity leave, and it would give her time in case it came early. Afterwards... she wasn't sure what she'd do then. She wanted to continue at Hogwarts, but the details would have to be worked out.

And the timing was made worse by the fact that her baby was due less than a week after the time Harry was meant to die, a thought that drove her to tears. She tried not to think about it much and really hoped their parents would find some way to save Harry.

Tyler arrived by taxi, living in Nottingham city, and Tori met him at the car so she could walk with him into the house, knowing he was nervous about meeting not only vampires but vampires who were her parents. Only Lorna was in the foyer to see them, however, and she was perfectly cheerful and polite, giving nothing away and making no issue of it when Tori said she was taking Tyler up to her room to talk. Gabriel probably would have scowled and maybe said something about that, but Tori was sure Lorna understood that Tori had no intentions of getting up to anything that couldn't be done with an open door. Aside from being too nervous for anything risqué, she wasn't going to risk her parents walking in or, more likely, overhearing, and she didn't feel very attractive and up to anything right then anyway.

"Your dad's not gonna rip my throat out or anything, is he?" Tyler asked as they headed upstairs.

"No, I told you when I called, he's fine with you being here."

"I just wanna be sure," Tyler muttered defensively, glancing around nervously. "He might change his mind when he sees me, or hears about me coming in your room. Dads are like that about their daughters—my dad didn't even like my sister getting a stupid Valentine's Day card from Dennis Creevey last February—and you told me yours is over-protective."

"Is that where your brother gets it? He beat up the Creevey kid for sending that card."

"Yeah, Cid's an idiot like that. Him and dad don't seem to realise that the more they try to stop Layla having anything to do with boys, the more interested she is, and getting worked up over that card was completely ridiculous. They're thirteen, for Merlin's sake; that's like getting worked up about six year olds having playground marriages.

Tori glanced sideways at him as they rounded the corner near her room. "You're not trying to protect her from all that, then? And what about your step-mum?"

Tyler laughed dryly. "Olivia doesn't talk about sex; Layla will learn nothing from her. As for me, I just told her not to use me as a role model, to be careful, and to remember that most boys are dickheads and I know because I am one. A boy, not a dickhead."

Tori snorted. "Fair enough. This is mine."

She gestured through her door and he stepped inside, looking around with interest at the white and purple room as she followed and shut the door behind her. "Nice room."

"Thanks. Um... take a seat." Now they were here and she wouldn't be able to put it off much longer, she was struck by nerves again. She perched on her bed while he sat at her desk, still looking around. She wondered if he thought the teddies on top of her clothes drawers were childish, and then noticed the bra and pair of knickers half hanging out of her laundry basket and hoped he didn't notice. A stupid thought, she realised, given that he'd seen her underwear and what went in it several times, but she still fought the urge to go over and shove them deeper into the basket. That would only draw attention to it.

Looking to put off the inevitable conversation, she asked, "How did you do in your OWLs?"

"Not bad. Five E's, one O, couple of A's. Dad thinks I could have done better, but I got no fail grades so it's a win in my book."

"What subjects are you taking this year?"

"Defence, Charms, Transfig, and Potions. It's all I need for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophe's at the Ministry."

"That's what you're planning to do with your life?"

He shrugged. "Dad says I'm not allowed to mooch off the family fortune and I've got a knack for fixing botched spellwork, so I figure it'll do. How was Iceland?"

She told him about the trip, glad to talk about the beautiful country. It definitely ranked as joint favourite with France, which had always been her favourite summer holiday destination. Iceland won on beauty, but France was warmer and homier.

But then Tyler asked, "Can I see the photos?"

"Um... maybe later."

He frowned. "Is everything alright?"

She rubbed at the back of her neck. "Yeah. I just, uh... I have something I need to tell you."

"Is it bad? It sounds like it's going to be bad. Are you breaking up with me for good?"

"No, it's not that. And it's not _bad_. Not... it might be. You might think it is, anyway, but _I_ don't, and—"

"What is it, Tor? You're not coming back to school? You're pregnant? Your dad agreed to turn—" He broke off, noticing her expression. "Wait, you're _not_ pregnant, are you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you're _not_ pregnant?"

"Yes, I _am_ pregnant."

Tyler made a strange, choked noise that Tori wouldn't have expected possible from someone without food or drink in their mouth. He gaped at Tori for a long minute in which she glared at him, daring him to say something unpleasant, and then he snapped his mouth shut and licked his lips. "Um. Right. Does your dad know about this?"

"Yes, and my mum, and Harry."

Tyler whimpered. "A-and they know I'm the dad?"

"They know you might be."

His expression went from fearful to confused. "Might be? Who else could it be? Wait—Logan Sparrow?"

She nodded. "I slept with him a few times. You can't get mad at me, I've know you've slept with Rebecca DiCamillo and Sonya Fawcett in your year."

"And Terry Boot."

Surprise overrode her defensiveness. "Really?"

"While you were with Logan."

"Wow. He kept that quiet." She was almost offended; she prided herself on knowing everything that happened at the school. "He's not even out yet, he still pretends he's straight even though he's obviously not."

"Serious internalised homophobia. You should have seen him after we did it. Not pretty." He paused, cleared his throat. "So... the baby. You're not sure if I'm the dad? But if Logan might be, you must be pretty far along by now. That was back at Easter. But you're not..." He trailed off and gestured at her stomach. She cautiously lifted her shirt and his eyes went wide, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. "Yeah, okay, definitely... um."

She dropped her shirt. It wasn't really big enough to properly hide the bulge, but charms helped. Robes hid it better and it made her grateful that the school uniform required them. She _wasn't_ ashamed or embarrassed, but the less obvious it was then hopefully the less of an issue people would make of it.

"What happens now?" Tyler asked her, gaze lifting to her face. "I mean, when can we find out if I'm the dad?"

"Not until it's born."

"Oh, right." He licked his lips again, a nervous habit and something that always attracted her to him. He had a gorgeous mouth. Skilled, too. "It's just I'm not really sure my dad and Olivia are going to be too impressed about me knocking you up."

Tori's heart sank. She really didn't want her school mates finding out she had no idea who her child's father was; it was one thing to be pregnant, but something else to be pregnant and ignorant.

Something must have shown on her face, because he hurried to add, "Not that I'll be upset or anything if it is. If it is mine, I'm... not cool with it, but I won't abandon you or anything. I'll take responsibility and do all the dad things, although I don't know what that entails at this stage. But my dad and step-mum, they might expect me to marry you—or deny that it's mine."

Tori wasn't surprised. She knew Tyler's father and step-mother were old fashioned, especially Olivia, and they wouldn't want a bastard child born to the family—at least not one that gets acknowledged. But she also knew Tyler's opinions on marriage—he didn't want it. He had absolutely no interest in being tied down to one person for his whole life, which was why they always had an on-off relationship. Tori didn't mind that Tyler wanted to be with other people just as long as she was the only one he was with when they were together.

She sometimes thought she might love him, and had even daydreamed a few times about marrying him and having an unusual open marriage in which he sometimes saw other people (but wasn't allowed in her bed at the times when he was). But she had no idea how he felt about her. Maybe the fact that he kept coming back to her meant he loved her, but it might just mean he knew she'd always take him. Maybe he just thought she was easy.

But all she said was, "My parents won't expect you to marry me, just so you know."

He looked surprised. "They don't believe that old fashioned stuff about not having kids out of wedlock?"

"No. Dad always said any and all relationships are fine, but you should only marry for love. Or money."

"Or money? So marry because you love them or because you're swindling them? That's a bit contradictory, isn't it?"

Tori shrugged. "Point is he's not in favour of arranged marriages or marrying for the sake of children. He'd only want us to marry if we really wanted to."

Tyler, to her surprise, didn't immediately insist he didn't want to. "I'm too young to marry."

"I thought you never wanted to marry."

"I don't, really, but if I was going to marry anyone, I guess you'd be alright."

" _Alright?_ "

"I mean good!" he hurriedly amended. "Great! I mean that if I had to pick anyone to marry, I'd definitely pick you over anyone else."

He looked worried and Tori forced down her initial insult at being deemed 'alright'. In truth, hearing him say he'd marry her over anyone else made her heart swell with joy, but she didn't tell him that.

"Well. Good. Me too."

He nodded, still looking a little concerned. "But I'm too young for that—legally and mentally."

"I know. But..."

"What?"

She picked at her nails, staring at them as she said, "I was hoping you'd say the baby's yours even though we don't know yet," and only then glanced up to see his reaction. He looked momentarily confused then his expression cleared.

"You don't want people knowing that you're not sure who the dad is?"

She fought not to squirm and appear embarrassed, but wasn't sure she succeeded. "I not ashamed or anything, but everyone will judge me. They're already going to call me a slag, but it'll be worse if they find out I don't even know the father."

"That's true. Which is shitty because if anyone's the slag, I am."

That made her smile. "Damn straight."

"I don't mind telling everyone it's mine, but what if it isn't? Have you told Logan about this?"

She shook her head. "We were only together a couple of months and it wasn't that serious. He's going to Riznaan Uni next month; I don't want to bother him with this. If it's not yours when we do the paternity test then I'll contact him and see what he wants to do about it, but I don't want to before then."

"You think that's the best idea?"

"It's what I want to do," she said stubbornly, and he didn't argue further.

"I guess now I just have to tell my parents. They're going to want to meet you, and I should probably confess that they think you're my long-time girlfriend. They don't approve of sleeping around," he added defensively when she looked surprised. "Not even for guys. Not that they know I have sex."

"They're going to now."

"Yeah."

"So... you're cool with all this?"

"I wouldn't say 'cool with it'," he replied, getting up and moving over to sit beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, "but I'll deal with it."

"You don't mind that I'm keeping it?"

"I don't support abortion."

"No, I know, but you don't think I should give it up for adoption?"

He looked surprised at the mere suggestion. "Do you want to?"

"No."

"Then neither do I. It's not like either of us is poor and we both have parents that can help us look after it. Is it going to be trouble with school? You're worried about other people so I guess that means you're still going."

"Yeah, I can stay. I just have to make arrangements for what'll happen once it's born. Can't keep a baby at school."

"Yeah, that would be awkward. And dangerous, with all those spells flying around."

She nodded then leant into him and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for not freaking out, Tyler."

* * *

Harry accompanied Theo and Tori to Diagon Alley when they went school shopping just for something to do. The street had changed since the last time he'd been there—brightly, because the new Weasley Wizard Wheezes shop was violent orange and stood out like a sore thumb amidst the rest of the drab-coloured shops. Not that it was that new anymore; they'd been set up for about a year now, opening up shortly after Fred and George Weasley left Hogwarts after their final year, but it was the first time Harry and Theo had seen it.

Harry hadn't thought much of the Weasleys at school. He tried and generally succeeded to avoid catching their attention, so he remained untouched by their pranks, many of which he'd found nasty rather than funny; he didn't think it amusing to suddenly turn into a canary. But he went inside to see what they were selling, and while the entire trick food section made him scowl, he had to admit the Skiving Snackboxes were a good idea, the self-inking and spell-checking quills were clever, and the Pygmy Puffs were cute. He was almost tempted to buy one, except he had a feeling Samantha would eat it.

They bumped into a few schoolmates while they were there and they all wanted to hear about Harry's trip around the world, which he gladly told them about, and stuck with the story of taking work as an independent charms expert when they asked what he planned to do now. It kept their attention from Tori, who was feeling particularly self-conscious that day. She'd been feeling down since visiting the Swifts the day before; Mr and Mrs Swift had wanted her and Tyler to marry and, when the two refused, became much less welcoming, saying it was disgraceful and shaming to both their families. Mrs Swift thought especially badly of Tori for wanting to have a baby out of wedlock; Mr Swift was a little better, but still tried to convince them to 'do the right thing'.

The rest of the month seemed to pass in a flash. Harry and Theo spent as much time together as possible. Theo once mentioned the possibility of putting off his schooling longer so they could make the most of the time Harry had left, but Harry insisted that he didn't. There was no point in Theo falling further behind just to spend time with him, and silently Harry suspected that being together so much might be making things harder for Theo. His death was going to be hard for them both, but being together all the time for the next four months wasn't going to make it easier.

He did agree to come see them off from the King's Cross on the first. As always they drove down to London a couple of days before and on the morning of the first, Ada drove the three teens to the station. Harry banked on the busy station preventing Theo from getting too openly upset about leaving—he would channel it into anger instead of tears, which made Harry feel sorry for the kids on the train that were probably going to bear the brunt of it when Theo boarded—but the boy surprised Harry by kissing him right on the platform, deep and tender, as the guard blew his whistle and the rest of the students rushed to get on board. Neither of them said anything after, just locked gazes and exchanged one last, soft kiss before Theo stepped away and got on board.

"Hurry up, lad!" the guard said, and it took a moment for Harry to realise they were speaking to him.

"I'm not going," he told them, stepping back. The guard just huffed at being delayed and carried on down the platform, checking the doors. Harry scanned the windows for Theo, but there was no sign of him and then the train pulled off and Harry turned away. He didn't want to watch it disappear from view; it felt oddly ominous, like it was the beginning of the countdown of the rest of his life. By the time the train next returned to London with his sister and boyfriend, he would have less than a month left to live.

He'd told Ada to leave after dropping them off and he Apparated himself straight from the station back to Lynott Manor, traipsing slowly up the driveway and wondering what he was going to do with himself for the next four months. He didn't know what Anita was going to do either, but he had her phone number and planned to call her, only he got inside and Ravella the butler told him that Anita was at the house, waiting in the family room.

"Hey, I didn't know you were coming," he greeted when he got there. She'd asked if she could come back to Lynott Manor if things didn't work out with her mum, but when they spoke on the phone a few days after she left she'd said she was staying. "Everything okay?"

Anita shrugged, smiling thinly. "Yeah. I just couldn't stay at home. I went to your London house and Ada said you were Apparating from King's Cross back here, so she Apparated me here then went back for the limo."

He took a seat by her. "Why couldn't you stay home? Was your mum still giving you trouble?"

"No, we talked and everything is good between us. But she's going to marry Nirav, the man she's been seeing."

"And you don't want her too?"

"No, it's not that. I'm glad she is. He seems like a really nice guy, he obviously loves her, and she's happier than I've seen her in a long time. His kids are nice enough, as well. But they're planning it for February and every time she talks about it she's so excited and wants me involved and I... I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I can't be there. I couldn't tell her I'm going to die." She looked down, lowering her voice. "It's the first time I've ever felt bad about my demon deal."

Unsure how to comfort her—he knew there was nothing helpful he could say—he just asked awkwardly, "What did you tell her about where you've gone now?"

"I said I was going back to Amritsar for a few months. I think I might. I still have enough money to last me if I live lightly, which I will because there's not even any point in luxuries at this point."

"You're going to stay there for the rest..." He trailed off, unsure how to phrase it. 'The rest of your life' was true enough, but also felt like stab in the gut, to him at least.

She got what he meant. "Maybe, or I might come back at the end of December. England is my home; I think I'd prefer to die here and it'd mean my mum doesn't have to worry about getting my body sent back. Or what's left of it."

"You know my parents are going to try and find a way to break my deal. They could help you too..." Harry offered, but Anita shook her head.

"I made my choice, Harry. I entered a deal and I'll keep to it; I won't break my word. I knew the outcome when I made it, and I know you didn't really know so I don't blame you for looking for a way out, but I can't dishonour myself by breaking a deal, even with a demon. Besides, I couldn't stand having that shred of false hope."

"False hope?"

Her expression was faintly pitying as she lifted her gaze to him. "Do you really think your parents will find a way to break the deal?"

He hesitated to answer, but admitted, "I don't think so. But it makes them feel better to look."

"You should have more faith in your father."

Harry twisted in his seat. "Mum! You're eavesdropping on us! How long have you been there?"

Lorna stepped further into the room, giving him a reproachful look. "The door wasn't shut, this isn't a private room, and you are well aware of how good our hearing is. You've always put up silencing charms when you don't want your father or me overhearing something, so don't accuse me of eavesdropping, young man."

"Sorry."

She shut the door then and came over, sitting on the sofa and looking at Anita. "So you made a demon deal as well. At the same time as Harry?"

Anita nodded, glancing unsurely between Lorna and Harry.

"Would you tell me where you learnt about demons? Harry refuses to."

Anita looked to Harry, who sighed and said to his mother, "I learnt about demons from Anita. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want to tell her secret."

"I can respect that," Lorna said with a smile to show she forgave and understood his secrecy, then looked back to Anita. "I realise I'm not your mother and I of course have no right to demand anything of you, but if you're willing to tell me I would like to know how you learnt about demons. It horrifies me that children so young can know enough to summon such a thing."

"I never thought of it like that," Anita admitted. "I don't mind telling you, Lady Valentine. I was possessed by a demon for about eight months when I was six. I learnt a lot of information from it."

"Good God! That must have been awful for you."

Anita smiled thinly and shrugged. "Yes, but it was a long time ago and I had therapy and dealt with it."

"I'm glad to hear that, at least." Lorna looked her over. "You're certain you wouldn't like Gabriel and me to try breaking your deal, as well?"

"Thank you for offering, but no, I don't want that."

Lorna's mouth tightened slightly, but she nodded. "Very well. When do you plan to leave for Amritsar?"

"Whenever I can get a travel permit. I already applied for one this morning; it should be ready in a couple of days. May I stay here until then?"

"Of course. We'll have Ada stay in the London for now, Harry can Apparate you there whenever you wish to go, and Ada will drive you to the Floo hub."

"Thank you."

"You can stay in the same room as before, but I'd like to speak with my son now."

Anita nodded, stood, and left. Harry eyed his mother, who frowned slightly.

"Do you really not think your father can break your deal?"

"Not really," he admitted honestly. "I have tried, Mum, when I was younger. I bought all kinds of books and journals and read everything I could find about demon deals. No one's ever broken one before."

"That doesn't mean it cannot be done. Your father is very persistent. He'll find a way, Harry."

"Maybe, but I can't believe that. Anita was right; I don't want the false hope either. If Dad does it, then great, but I can't believe that he will or it'll make it harder when he fails."

"If he fails," she countered, but stood and came over to press a kiss to his hair, "but I understand. I'll just have to have enough hope for the both of us."

* * *

On the day Anita left for India, Harry Apparated her to London and accompanied her to the Floo hub, drove back to the town house with Ada, then Apparated away again—but he didn't go home. Instead he reappeared in the Leaky Cauldron, headed out the main entrance to Charing Cross Road, and walked until he found a telephone box. Inside, he pulled a crumpled leaflet out of his jeans pocket and unfolded it to read the telephone number written on the back, beneath the name 'Remus Lupin'. He'd kept all his old school things, tucked away in his trunk and shoved into one corner of his bedroom, and he'd gone through it the night before searching for the stuff he still had from the Muggle Studies trip in fifth year. He'd also sent a letter that morning before leaving Lynott Manor.

He put some money in the coin slot and dialled, staring at the crude graffiti scribbled on the phone box as he listened to it ring five times before connecting.

"Hello?"

"Um..." Harry said, caught off guard and not sure why. He forced himself to get it together, cleared his throat, and said, "Is this Remus Lupin?"

"Who's calling, please?"

"Harry. Potter-Valentine."

"Oh! Harry, this is a surprise. Yes, it's Remus. I didn't think you'd still have my number."

Harry shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. "I keep my school stuff."

"I see. Can I help you with something?"

There was a little ledge for leaning on and Harry drew a finger over it, then stopped and wiped his finger on his jeans because it was a filthy.

"Harry? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I want to see you."

"You do? I'd love to," Lupin added hurried. "But I admit I'm surprised to hear it. When did you want to?"

"I don't know. I sent a letter to Sirius Black this morning as well. I want him there, too, so it needs to be a time when he can come."

There was a banging from Lupin's end and Harry heard him moving. "Alright. Excuse me a moment, there's someone at my door and I need to answer before they break it down."

Harry heard some faint clicks, a pause, then, "Siri-"

"Did you get one?" Sirius Black's voice came down the line, more distant that Lupin's but audible to Harry's ear. "Did you get a letter from Harry?"

"No, but I'm on the phone with him now. Come in."

More clicks and footsteps, then: "Sorry about that, Harry. Sirius is here with me now."

Sirius' voice came down the phone, "Tell him of course I want to see him. I'm free now, if he is."

"Harry—"

"I heard."

"Is now alright for you?"

"I guess," said Harry, who'd expected to have at least a couple of days before they met, assuming Sirius would be busy with work and would need to fit it into a day off, but perhaps today was one of his days off. He hesitated before saying his next bit, but he really didn't have much choice. "Can I come to your place?"

There was a pause before Remus asked, "Would you be alright with that?"

 _Not really,_ he didn't say. "My parents don't know I'm doing this," he admitted. "I don't want to meet in Diagon Alley in case someone sees us and tells them, but I need to talk about magic things so it can't be a Muggle place either."

"I see. I don't mind you coming over, but only if it won't make you uncomfortable. That's the last thing I want, Harry."

"I'll be fine. Where do you live?"

Lupin gave him the address and Harry hung up. Lupin lived in an all-Muggle neighbourhood, but it was in London so Harry took the underground as close as he could then walked the rest of the distance.

Lupin answered to door of his third floor flat with a warm, welcoming smile and Sirius visible over his shoulder. The werewolf looked a lot better than the last time Harry had seen him. His gaunt cheeks had filled out and his clothes sat on him comfortably instead of hanging loosely around his near-skeletal figure, the large number of greys in his brown hair seemed to add character rather than just make him look older than his years, and there was a general air of healthiness to him.

"Hello, Harry. Come in, please."

Harry did so, wary, thumbing the wand hanging at his hip as he wiped his feet on the welcome mat and then followed Lupin and Sirius down a narrow hall to a small kitchen. They passed an open door on the way and Harry glimpsed through to see a neat little sitting room, and the kitchen was clean and tidy when they reached it.

"Have a seat," Lupin said, gesturing to the table just big enough to sit four people. "Can I get you a drink? Tea, juice, water, butterbeer?"

"Tea, thank you."

As Lupin put the kettle on and fetched mugs, Sirius and Harry sat.

"So the Valentines have no idea you're here?" Sirius said, watching Harry in a way that Harry almost wanted to call suspicious. "You keep a lot of secrets from them?"

"What's it to you?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just wondering."

"I'm seventeen now, I don't need their permission for everything."

"Fair enough. How come you're not at Hogwarts, anyway?"

"Gareth—Professor Martin—mentioned that you were planning to become an independent charms expert," Lupin said. "Is that right?"

"Yeah."

Sirius was still looking intent. "Who are you apprenticing with?"

Harry had no idea independent experts needed apprenticeships, but he didn't show his surprise. "No one, yet. I'm only just beginning to look. I've been out of the country most of the past year."

"I heard. Friend in the travel department told me you and a couple of other kids had visas for half the world."

Harry bristled. "We're not kids. We're all seventeen."

"Sorry."

Lupin brought three steaming mugs to the table, then a pot of sugar and some milk that he set in the centre before sitting down. "Did you have fun on this trip?"

Harry nodded, watching Sirius add four teaspoons of sugar to his tea and drink it before Harry added some to his own. "It was fun. We saw a lot of places."

"Did you go to Riznaan? I hear it's supposed to be interesting there."

"That's one word for it. I preferred Cidágua in Brazil, and Kyoto was... intriguing."

Sirius' brow twisted with disapproval. "Lot of dark magic over there."

"I know. They have necromancers. I saw one."

"By saw one, you mean...?"

"I went to meet him." He paused, stirred his tea a few times, admitted: "I paid him to raise my parents' ghosts so I could talk to them for an hour."

Lupin and Sirius exchanged a look Harry couldn't read and Lupin put down his tea. "Were you hurt?" he asked.

"No. I'm not here to discuss the ethics of it," Harry told them.

"What are you here for?" Sirius asked, almost demanded. Lupin shot him a disapproving look, but Sirius ignored it. Harry held his gaze firmly.

"You both knew that Severus Snape was my real birth father, didn't you? And that James only adopted me. Is that why you refused to be my godfather?"

Sirius put down his mug, voice calm when he spoke. "Yes, it is. I didn't like Snape and I couldn't ignore your real parentage enough to agree to being your godfather."

"What about now? Do you still see me as Severus' kid instead of James'?"

"No, now I see you as your own person, not someone else's kid."

"Why'd you never tell me about it? You," he said to Lupin, "I get; you were comatose for years. But why didn't you tell me?"

"Because Snape didn't want you to know," Sirius answered unapologetically, "and I might have hated the bastard but it was his choice. If I'd told you when you were a kid, all it would have done was make things difficult between you because I knew Snape refused to take you in full time. After he died, I thought about it, but what'd be the point? He was dead, you had nothing to gain from knowing he'd been your birth father."

Harry thought that was what he'd say, and he suspected Gareth would use a similar reason if Harry asked him about it. He wondered if he should feel angry about it, especially at Gareth for not telling him when Harry first found the book in Snape's house, but he wasn't. He had mere months left to live; what was the point in getting angry about it now?

But there was one thing he wanted an answer to: "Why didn't Severus take me in after Lily and James died?"

"You want what he told me or what I think?" Sirius asked.

"Both."

"Alright. Snape said he wouldn't because it wasn't safe; there were protections against Voldemort and his people on the Dursley home that couldn't be put anywhere else. But you ask me, he just wasn't willing to take the responsibility."

Old instincts made Harry want to defend Snape against Sirius' clear dislike, but he couldn't. He had a feeling Sirius might be right.

"How do you feel about learning this?" Lupin asked, and Harry scowled.

"You sound like a shrink," he replied, making Lupin laugh. "I feel fine. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you Lily and James said hi to you both, and they're glad you're out of the coma and that everyone knows the truth about Pettigrew."

Sirius looked concerned. "They knew about the coma? They know I did it?" he asked, glancing briefly, apologetically, at Lupin.

Harry nodded. "They said they learn stuff from the newly dead and Severus told them about it. James said you're a wanker and if you don't make it up to—him—" he jerked his head at Lupin; he didn't know what to call the man, uncomfortable with his first name but not willing to call him 'Mr Lupin' either "—then James will kick your arse when you die, no matter how old you are."

Lupin laughed and Sirius gave a wan smile. "I'm working on it. Knowing James he'll probably kick my arse anyway, but I'll deserve it."

"Agreed," Lupin said, but he was still smiling and the look he gave Sirius made Sirius look hopeful. "Did they have anything else to say?"

"Not for you," Harry said, not rudely.

"Fair enough. And you were alright after doing this... ritual? Even 'benign' dark magic can be dangerous."

Harry scowled. "I was fine. Please don't... fuss."

Lupin looked as if he wanted to object, but he just nodded, to Harry's gratefulness. He didn't need Lupin's concern, didn't want it. He wasn't even sure why he'd come to see Lupin; he could just as easily have seen only Sirius, who he'd wanted to see to confirm his suspicions about why he'd refused the godfather position, and Harry could have asked him to pass on a message to Lupin.

But Harry felt... less easy with his hatred of Lupin these days. Not bad or guilty, exactly, but less comfortable with it. Whenever he thought about hating him, he remembered Lily and James' ghosts and something in him twinged. He also thought of the American hunters who proactively hunted down werewolves, and he didn't like to think that he might be the same kind of person they were. As much as he hated werewolves, his conscience didn't sit right with the idea of being so callous as to murder them even if they weren't able to hurt people. He used to think that Lupin should be Kissed and executed, but as punishment for supposedly betraying the Potters, not because he was werewolf. And alright, even after they learnt the truth he thought Lupin would be better off dead, but mostly because he didn't think Lupin would ever wake up so it would be euthanasia rather than execution.

But even thinking that made him uncomfortable now. He wasn't sure if it was his birth parents' ghosts or meeting the hunter or just time, but his feelings were changing, slightly. He didn't like it much. What was the point, at this stage? He was dead in four months and it's not like his final destination would change just because he thought a little more kindly about werewolves. There was no use in trying to build a relationship with Lupin, either, which he still didn't want anyway, and all he could gain from this was the knowledge that he was growing as a person. Personally, he didn't take much comfort from it. Let the people who had long lives before them change; it was wasted on him.

He pushed away his mug, which was less than half empty, and stood up. "I should get home. My parents will be wondering where I am."

Disappointment flickered across Lupin's face, but he nodded. "Of course. Can... will you come again?"

"No," Harry said, but not as harshly as he might have in the past. "I only wanted to pass on my birth parents' message. I still don't need a godfather. I'm an adult now, anyway."

"Perhaps a friend then?" Lupin suggested hopefully. "We don't have to—"

But Harry interrupted with another, "No. I'm not—I don't want to."

There was definite hurt on Lupin's face now, but he made no more objections. Sirius opened his mouth, but then there was a light thud and Sirius grunted painfully. Lupin didn't even glance at him. "Are you Apparating home? If you are, you're free to go straight from here instead of walking out to find somewhere to leave from."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "How do you know I can Apparate?"

"Sirius or Gareth told me once."

"You interrogate them about me?"

"No," Lupin said calmly, ignoring the touch of anger in Harry's tone, "but I've asked a few questions on occasion. You might have rejected me, Harry, but you're still my godson and I still have an interest in your life. I've respected your wishes not to intrude on your life, but it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to ask my friends about you."

A part of Harry wanted to say that yes, actually, it did, but he knew that was irrational so he just muttered, "Whatever," stepped away from the table, and Disapparated.

* * *

His parents questioned where he'd been for the past hour, but it wasn't long enough for them to really worry and they were satisfied by his answer that he'd gone to a cafe for lunch.

The next few weeks passed dully. He spent a lot of time bored, wandering about the house aimlessly, flicking through TV channels, picking up and discarding books. He couldn't go out much because Gabriel's attempts at breaking his deal apparently involved capturing a lot of demons, and Gabriel didn't want the rest of the demons trying to get revenge by attacking his family. He even had Harry put an Anti-Possession Spell on himself and Tori before she'd left for school.

But Gabriel's efforts weren't going well and the longer that passed without success, the angrier and more tense Gabriel got, and his mood seemed to infect the whole house. Harry argued with him several times, usually over stupid things like leaving the TV on or not cleaning up after himself, but they had a huge fight when Gabriel caught Harry smoking in his bedroom. Harry refused to give it up, insisting that it wasn't like it'd matter if he got cancer in the next few months and pointing out that he was seventeen and therefore old enough to decide for himself if he wanted to smoke.

"I don't care how old you are," Gabriel snarled, "you will not smoke while you're living under my roof."

"Fine!" Harry yelled. "Then I'll move out!"

"You will not!"

"Oh, so I'm a prisoner now, is that it? You're just going to lock up your own child?"

"If that's what it takes to keep you safe, then yes!"

"No!" cried Lorna, who'd turned up when the shouting started, tried to stop it, then given up and just watched with an expression of concern and irritation. Now she straightened up from where she leant against the doorframe of Harry's room and glared at Gabriel. "No, we are not locking up our son. That's enough, from both of you. Gabriel, go downstairs and cool off. Get something to eat. _Now_."

Glowering, Gabriel stormed off. Harry, childishly, stuck his tongue out at his back.

"Harry," Lorna chided, frowning, and shut the door behind Gabriel. "I thought you'd stopped smoking. When did you start again?"

He thought about lying, but decided not to bother. "When I got back to school for fifth year. I didn't want to stop."

"Didn't want to or couldn't?"

"I could," he said defensively. "I stopped all that summer. I'm not stopping now. It's my choice, you can't make me."

"Unfortunately not," she sighed. "But I don't want you smoking inside the house, not even out the window. You go outside to do it, understand?"

He nodded; it was fair enough.

"And I want to suggest something," she said, sitting on his bed and patting for him to sit beside her. "Would you agree to giving up smoking when your father breaks the deal?"

" _If_ he breaks it."

"Very well, if he breaks it."

"I don't know..."

"You'll have a lot more life left to ruin, Harry. It would be terrible if you were freed from the demon deal only to come down with terminal cancer. Please. Do it for your old mum?"

He leant into her side. "You're not old."

"I'm four hundred and fifty-two."

"You don't _look_ old," he amended, and she laughed.

"And I never shall, but stop changing the subject. Would you do this for me, please? And if you won't do it for me, do it for your niece or nephew. You don't want the smoke getting near your sister's baby when it's born, do you?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Definitely not," he said, and sighed. "Alright. I'll quit smoking on the seventh of January or when Tori has her baby, whichever is first."

Lorna smiled, putting an arm around his shoulders to hug him and kissing his temple. "Thank you, Harry. And don't worry about your father; I'll speak to him."

But despite the boredom and the unpleasantness of the arguments, the next month still seemed to pass in a flash, and he started getting desperate about leaving the house. When he got a letter from Theo saying there was a Hogsmeade weekend on the first of November and inviting Harry to come up to the village so they could meet, Harry agreed immediately, but it took him and Lorna to convince Gabriel to let him go, and to let him visit his birth parents' graves as usual on Hallowe'en. Gabriel was convinced the demons would attack Harry if he went out and in the end he agreed to let Harry visit Godric's Hollow only if he went after dark so Gabriel and Lorna could accompany him. Harry groaned and complained, but eventually gave in because it was the only way he was going to get out.

He didn't stay at the graveyard even half as long as he used to. Not because of Gabriel and Lorna—he was used to being accompanied, even if not by them—but because he now knew for a fact that Lily and James couldn't hear him. He'd spoken to their actual spirits earlier that year and it made talking to their gravestones seem less engaging. He tried a couple of times to talk like he used to, but eventually gave up, touched the stone, and just whispered, "Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Dad."

The Hogsmeade visit caused more arguing and eventually, after Lorna yelled at him for half an hour, Gabriel reluctantly agreed to letting Harry go. It was nice not only to see Theo and Tori, but also the rest of his old classmates. He got wrangled into telling everyone about his world trip, and in return heard all the latest student gossip. Tori was still the most interesting of that, to the rest of the school, even two months into term. She had received some crap from the other students for her pregnancy, but a lot of it stopped when they realised that being pregnant didn't stop her from hexing their noses onto their kneecaps, and her close friends were standing up for her.

Harry spent all day in the village and got the last few hours to himself with Theo, who stayed as long as he could before the rules said he had to be back. This meant they could have dinner together because sixth and seventh years were allowed to stay in the village until six, which was also the time Harry was meant to be back home. After eating they wandered up towards the school and used the trees surrounding the path to hide in and make out for a bit.

"I don't want you to go," Theo murmured at five to six, his arms around Harry's neck and their foreheads pressed together, Harry backed against a tree.

"Me neither, but I have to."

"Has your father found a way to break your deal yet?"

It was the first either of them had mentioned it.

"No."

Theo's eyes closed, but he said nothing else, just kissed Harry, hard and deep. When he pulled away and opened his eyes again, they were completely white from corner to corner and he grinned broadly when Harry sucked in a sharp breath, his own eyes widening in shock.

"Good, then he never will," Theo said, then grabbed Harry's head in both hands and smashed it back against the tree hard enough to knock him unconscious.


	33. Chapter 33

****Disclaimer:**** Lilith is from the TV show _Supernatural_.

 **Chapter 33**

Gabriel paced the street on which Lynott Manor was situated. He'd let Harry go under the condition he be back by six and it was now nearly half past. He wanted to go out and find his son, sure that something terrible had happened, but Lorna said they wait a full thirty minutes, insisting that Harry probably just forgot the time. Gabriel hoped so, but he couldn't help thinking it was more probable that a demon had attacked him. About thirty were now stuck in jars locked in a protected room in the east wing, and the word was out that Gabriel Valentine was hunting down and trapping demons. Fortunately, there were rituals that didn't require a wand which forcibly summoned demons, so he was still able to get more despite their efforts to avoid him.

A figure appeared from thin air at twenty-nine minutes past and Gabriel whirled towards it, a furious yell already half out of his mouth before he realised that it wasn't Harry. Lorna straightened up from where she leant against the gatepost.

"Theo? What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"

They had lights illuminating this part of the street, so anyone approaching could be easily seen on the security cameras, but as Gabriel and Lorna didn't need much light to see well it made Theo's pure white eyes look like gleaming stars.

"Harry's somewhere safe. For now. And Theo isn't home right now, so you and I are going to have a talk, Gabriel Valentine."

"Who are you?" Gabriel demanded, fangs bared in a silent threat. Lorna shifted to stand by him, eying the thing that looked like their son's boyfriend. "What have you done with our son?"

"Tucked him away in a safe place. I am a demon. My name's Lilith." The demon smiled mockingly, glancing down at Theo's body. "I normally take female bodies, I prefer them, but I had to make do with this boy because he was the one who could get close to your son. I would have possessed your daughter—" both vampires snarled, and the demon's grin widened "—but she's protected. Maybe you should have protected your children's friends as well, because you should know I've got demons in both her friends."

"I will kill you," Gabriel snarled, but the demon just laughed.

"No, you won't. If you knew how to kill demons you'd have killed all the ones you've captured. And you won't hurt me, either, because that would mean hurting Theodore Nott, and then your son would hate you. They really love each other, you know."

"We can still exorcise you," Lorna said. Gabriel was reaching that level of anger were he tended to reduce to snarls and growls and let his emotions control him, but Lilith was right that they couldn't hurt her while she was inside of Theo so he fought to control himself, letting Lorna speak for him. He couldn't use the seduction either; it was useless against demons. "I think I know the exorcism off by heart now. _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—_ "

"You're going to need something better than that to get me out," Lilith interrupted, still smiling. "I'm not just any demon. I'm the first. I'm big, and bad, and if you want to get your son back then we're going to make a deal."

"We don't deal with demons."

"Isn't that what you've been trying to do for months? Make a deal: the demons in exchange for freeing your son from his contract? Well this is a counter offer. Let the demons go, or your children die tonight. Both of them, and the little unborn grandbaby."

Gabriel tensed, shifting as fear joined his anger, but Lorna grabbed his arm. She couldn't restrain him, she was too comparatively young and weak, but it was enough to remind him to keep his head for a bit longer.

"Why can't you just release Harry from his contract? Why is he so important to you demons?"

"Oh he's not," Lilith replied dismissively. "Me, I don't give a damn about him. I mean, he has the potential to be something special and it's always nice to get the special ones so that heaven doesn't, because they make much better demons than the average shit who sells his soul for a bit of cash or a pretty wife. But I've got less than fifteen years to prepare for an apocalypse, so I've got way more important things to worry about than some pesky teenager that Crowley got his filthy claws into." Her smile turned condescending then. "But then you started trapping demons and Crowley got it into his head that it would be amusing to refuse to give up the boy's soul just to annoy you. Which it is, especially when you captured Crowley himself. I liked that; I've never been very fond of him and his replacement in the sales department is a fun demon so it's a win in my book."

"Then why are you threatening us now?"

Lilith's smile finally faded. "Because you caught Azazel and Alistair, and I need them. Alistair, I _could_ do without; he's the best of the torturers, but other demons have apprenticed under him so I could probably manage. But Azazel—him I need. He's too crucial to our plans."

Gabriel managed to control his anger enough to talk again. "Free Harry from his contract and you can have those two."

Lilith cocked her head consideringly, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying on her heels in a way that made Gabriel think of little girls. He usually thought of demons as 'it' and gender-neutral, no matter what human they possessed, but he had to admit that the way this one stood and held itself was distinctly feminine.

"It's a nice offer," Lilith said eventually. "Tempting, but I think I prefer mine. I don't need the rest of the demons, but they will be useful in years to come. So release all the demons and stop trying to free Harry from his contract, or your children die. It's very simple, you shouldn't need long to think about it. I'll even have my demons leave those two lovely girls that are best friends with your daughter. Theodore here will be completely unharmed—he won't even remember anything that's happened in the past day, which, incidentally, means if you do exorcise me you'll never find your son because I'm the only one that knows where he is." When they hesitated to answer, she rolled her eyes. "Tell you what, I'll sweeten the deal. You can keep Crowley. Maybe you can torture him into voiding the contract or just find a way to kill him as revenge."

"I don't think we have a choice, Gabriel," Lorna said softly, regretful but urgent.

"You don't," Lilith said.

Gabriel shook with anger, eyes glaring furiously at Lilith, who just smiled sweetly. It was a strange expression to see on Theo's face. But she was right. The blood Gabriel had given his children should have let him find them anywhere, but he couldn't sense Harry now he was trying.

"Fine."

Lilith's smile broadened to a grin. "Excellent. Go get them then."

Gabriel jerked his head at the gate. "This way."

Lilith's smile faded and her eyes narrowed. She reached into Theo's pocket and withdrew a wand—a familiar, bone white wand that made Lorna's eyes widen and had Gabriel baring his teeth again. Harry's wand.

"I'll come, but try anything and I'll curse you both."

"Demons can't use wands," Gabriel countered.

"Normally, no. Not very well, anyway; they always make the spells come out oddly for us, but this one..." She lifted it to her nose and sniffed. "Human bone with a hellhound hair core. A gift from Crowley, I think. Very nice, and it works surprisingly well for me." She held it in front of her, aimed at Lorna. "Do you want me to demonstrate?"

"Let's go," Lorna said sharply, as much to Gabriel as to Lilith. She tugged on Gabriel's sleeve and he stiffly turned and headed through the gates and up the driveway. The two of them a spread out a little, keeping Lilith between them, though she hung back slightly, just enough to be behind them but not quite out of sight.

They entered the house through the east wing doors and headed to the second floor room. Gabriel unlocked it and went inside first while Lorna hung back, gesturing for Lilith to enter before her then following the demon inside and shutting the door. The room was windowless, lit with a single fluorescent strip light in the ceiling that illuminated the shelves of jars on the right, each one filled with the black smoke that was a demon without a host body.

The light also illuminated the devil's trap on the floor, a pentagram painted in black with various runic symbols in the spaces between the lines. Any demon that stepped inside of it couldn't leave again unless the outer markings were broken, and Lilith stood right at the centre of it.

"Oh dear," she said calmly. "Whatever shall I do now."

"Release our son from his contract," Gabriel demanded. "Now."

Lilith hummed, huffed, and smiled. "No."

"You can't leave here, demon. Do as I command if you want to escape this room!"

Lilith laughed. "No. Don't you understand, vampire? Harry is trapped at the bottom of a well whose water is steadily rising. In—" she flicked back her sleeve and looked at the watch on Theo's wrist "—maybe ten minutes maximum, he'll be fully submerged. In precisely twelve minutes, my demons are ordered to kill your daughter if they don't hear from me. There is nothing you can do to me in that time that will make me release Harry from his contract, so you can waste that time bitching and moaning and torturing me, but it won't get you anywhere." Her humourous expression faded to one of hateful sincerity. "Break the trap, let me and the rest of these demons go, and don't ever try this again. That is the _only_ way your children will survive the next half an hour."

"You're _vile_ ," Lorna spat, trembling with fury.

Lilith beamed. "Why thank you, I'm glad you think so."

They really had no other choice. Gabriel scraped away some of the paint to break the devil's trap while Lorna opened the door again and yelled a warning to the rest of the household. Then they opened up the jars, releasing each torrent of black smoke to swarm through the house and find a window or door back out into the world. They weren't worried about the vampires—demons couldn't possess them—and only had to hope Ada would be alright in the main house.

When only one jar remained, they turned to Lilith.

"What about that one?"

"That's Crowley," Gabriel said. "We're keeping him."

"Fair enough." She stepped backwards through the door, beyond the range of the broken devil's trap, and said, "Harry is at thirty-four Oak Lane, Carlslot, Hampshire," then opened her mouth and a torrent of black smoke poured out. It swept away to find a way out of the house and Theo collapsed. Lorna darted forward, crouching by him. Gabriel could hear his heart beat and couldn't smell blood, which was encouraging, and he was relieved when Theo groaned and blinked his eyes open. Normal, human brown eyes.

"Wha... Lorna? Where am I?"

"Lynott Manor. You were possessed by a demon. Are you alright?"

He sat up, looking around. "I think so. Possessed by a demon? Is that what all that black smoke was that forced into my mouth?"

"Yes. If you're alright, we need to go. Harry's in danger."

Theo scrambled to his feet. "Where? What happened?"

Lorna told him briefly as they hurried through to the main house, Gabriel yelling for Ada. He never regretted not having a full Floo system in the house as much as he did right then; he was willing to risk self-immolation to get to his children quicker, but all they could do was get Ada to Apparate the three of them to just outside Hogwarts. They arrived at the same moment Gareth Martin came charging out the gate.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, rushing over. "Mr Nott, what are you doing—"

"Two of your students are possessed by demons," Gabriel interrupted him. "Lorna can tell the headmistress and help her exorcise them. I need you to take me to Oak Lane, Carlslot, Hampshire, now. We'll come back here after," he added to Lorna, who nodded and hurried off through the school gates with Theo and Ada. Gareth gripped Gabriel's arm and they vanished, reappearing in an overgrown garden and immediately getting soaked to the skin by heavy rain.

It was dark, the waning gibbous moon hidden behind thick clouds, but Gabriel was easily able to make out the shape of a well in the middle of the garden. He dragged Gareth over and peered over the edge. Even his eyes weren't good enough to pierce through the utter blackness inside the well, but he could hear the faint sound of a slow heartbeat under the sound of raindrops hitting the water in the well.

"Harry!"

No response. Gareth conjured a dim light, enough to let them see without blinding them, and sent it floating down the well. Harry was at least a hundred feet deep, his arms stretched out on either side and his hands actually sunk into the stone walls of the well right up to his wrists. His head was tilted back and he moaned slightly as the light approached him, eyelids fluttering.

" _Get him out_ ," Gabriel ordered, and then, when Gareth started to climb into the well, demanded, "What are you doing?"

"It's not safe to just haul him out," Gareth answered as he carefully levitated himself down to the water. "Trust me, I've seen it go badly before, and I need to see what's happening with his hands."

He swore loudly when he hit the cold water, squeezed into the space between Harry and the wall. With a slight flick of his fingers, all the water beneath their feet solidified into rock for him to stand on and the rest of it slowly slid up the sides and out of the well. He didn't want to just vanish it; the suddenness of it could hurt Harry further.

"Ga'th?"

"Yeah, I'm getting you out, just hang in there a bit longer, Harry."

Harry mumbled a noise of agreement, but his eyes slid shut and his head dropped forward. Gareth didn't worry about it, focusing on his hands instead. It wasn't hard to remove them from the wall unharmed, but he had to be careful to catch Harry as soon as the first hand was free. Once they were out, he pulled the boy close and carefully levitated them both out the well, but didn't let Gabriel grab him when he tried.

"You need to be careful," Gareth said firmly, ignoring Gabriel's harsh stare. "He's still in danger. Any rough movement could end up killing him. He's not even shivering—that's bad."

He lay Harry down on the grass, conjuring a simple, large tent over them to protect them from the rain and charming dry the ground beneath them. He vanished Harry's clothes then held his hand a few inches above his skin and moved it slowly from his head to his toes, removing the water still clinging to his skin. Once he was dry, Gareth conjured blankets directly under Harry and wrapped them around him, including a charm to keep the heat contained.

"You've done this before."

Gareth nodded, gaze still on Harry, who was slipping in and out of consciousness. "I had a wife once, long time ago, Muggle, who went on a cruise trip for a friend's hen party. Something happened—something wrong with the ship, I think, I don't remember—but it started sinking and she ended up in the water. I panicked when I heard about it on the news, went out immediately to find her. Rescue crews were already working, but she was still in the water when I got there so I pulled her out. She knew I was a wizard, I didn't think twice about Apparating her straight to safety and warming her up with magic."

He paused, staring down at Harry, and his voice dropped when he spoke again. "There's a problem called circum-rescue collapse. The stress of rapid cooling combined with the change in hormones from the adrenaline rush of being in danger and then the loss of adrenaline when rescue comes—it places strain on the heart, drops the blood pressure, and can cause a heart attack."

"Your wife died."

"Yes," Gareth said quietly. "After that, I figured I should get some first aid and medical education. Sometimes magic isn't always the best method."

"When can we move him?"

Gareth checked Harry over, checking his pulse and using a basic diagnostic spell to find out his temperature. "He's recovering alright, starting to shiver. When he's warmer, it should be safe enough to Apparate him to Hogwarts."

Harry was reaching a better state of consciousness then and he turned his gaze on Gabriel. "D-dad?"

«It's alright, you're safe now,» Gabriel assured him softly in Italian, stroking his cheek. «You're safe now.»

"S-something's w-wrong with T-Theo," Harry replied, his weakness making him stick to English for simplicity. "He attacked m-me, but his eyes were all w-white. It wasn't his f-fault."

«I know, he was possessed by a demon. He's safe now, it didn't hurt him, he doesn't even remember anything.»

They stayed until Harry was strong enough to sit up then Gareth Apparated all three of them back to Hogwarts. Gabriel carried Harry, still wrapped in blankets, and they made for the Hospital Wing, which was already busy with people and smelt of blood.

Tori sat on one bed with Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin lay in another being tended to by Madam Pomfrey, Ada stood by Tori and Padma's bed, and Lorna was talking with Professor McGonagall. Theo stood nearby looking anxious, but he rushed over when Gabriel came and laid Harry on the bed next to Lisa.

"Harry, are you alright? Your mother said—"

"I'm fine, T-Theo," Harry assured him, teeth still chattering slightly, "I'm fine. Are you? D-Dad said you were possessed."

"I'm okay. I don't even remember. Are you sure you're alright?"

"He'll be fine," Gareth told Theo, then headed down the ward towards Pomfrey's office, calling back as he went, "Poppy, I'm giving him—"

"Soft Swirl, not Pepper-Up!" Pomfrey called over her shoulder urgently.

"I know!"

When he returned, Gabriel left Harry in Gareth's care and moved to the bed with the other girls, glancing at Lisa as he passed. Closer to, he could see that Pomfrey was sealing up a deep wound in Lisa's abdomen. Tori and Padma watched worriedly, but Tori accepted a hug from Gabriel, leaning into his embrace as he asked, «Are you alright?»

«I'm fine, Dad,» she assured him with a shaky smile. «Just a little shaken. I had no idea Lisa and Padma were possessed until the demons left them.»

«What happened to Lisa?»

«The demon made her stab herself before it left. Madam Pomfrey says she'll be okay, but I don't know why it did it.»

«It was a demon; they commit evil just for the sake of it. I'm glad to hear she'll be alright, and very glad you're unhurt.» He kissed her hair. «I'm sorry, Tori.»

She looked at him in surprise. «What for?»

«This was my fault. Don't ask now, I'll explain it to you and your brother later, but I'm sorry.»

She wrapped both arms around his waist. «It's okay, Dad. Lisa's going to be alright and the rest of us are fine.»

He appreciated the reassurance, gave her one last kiss, and moved over to join Lorna and McGonagall just as McGonagall was saying, "We'll check all the students for possession tonight. I want to be sure they're all safe."

Lorna nodded. "I apologise again for our involvement in this, and we'll do everything we can to ensure it doesn't happen again."

"I appreciate that, Lady Valentine." She glanced at Gabriel and nodded. "Lord Valentine. Please excuse me."

"What did you tell her?" Gabriel asked Lorna in a vampire whisper when McGonagall moved to exchange a few words with Pomfrey before leaving with Gareth.

"That we upset a demon as part of nest business and it retaliated by coming after the kids. She asked we not do it again."

Gabriel's gaze fell on Harry, huddled in blankets and sat up, head bent close to Theo's as they spoke quietly. Gabriel's heart ached at the thought of him dying, and he was furious that all his efforts for the past two months had been useless. He knew he couldn't try it again and for the first time he doubted if he'd be able to save his son. He fully intended to torture Crowley, to try and force him to void the contract, but he wasn't much of a torturer and he'd never really dealt with demons personally before. When he wanted something, it was usually from humans and he could just force it out of them with the seduction; when that didn't work, pointed threats to their life or loved ones were usually sufficient. But demons didn't have loved ones and though he'd heard rumours of at least one knife, a gun, and an ancient spell that could kill demons, he didn't know if any of them really existed and, if they did, three months mightn't be enough time to find them, even with his resources.

He would try—he had to—but he also knew he might have to start to accept that his son might really die.

* * *

McGonagall didn't want to frighten the students with stories of possession, so at Gareth's suggestion they put out the story that a specific strain of flu had been found in Lisa, but there was a preventative potion that would ensure no one else caught it. To this end, Gareth took twelve litres of water to the nearest Muggle town and got it blessed by a priest then set up in the Hospital Wing. He painted a devil's trap on the floor, hid it with a Concealment Spell, and had every student come through to drink a shot of the holy water under the belief it was a potion.

Anyone who was possessed would be identified when they drank the water, steaming at the mouth as if it was boiling hot. As it was supposedly a medical potion, anyone had the right to refuse it for any reason, but Pomfrey and McGonagall said the student would still have to come in and sign a form saying they were refusing it, so even if they were possessed they would still be caught by the concealed devil's trap.

It took several hours to get everyone done, making the upper years late for bed and the common rooms busy with nervously excited chatter, but eventually everyone was proven demon free. Lisa and Padma were the only ones who'd been possessed.

Harry stayed in the Hospital Wing for a few hours until Madam Pomfrey was happy that he was sufficiently warmed up and not suffering from his exposure to the cold, then he put Anti-Possession Spells on Theo, Padma, and Lisa before he and his parents went home. The three teens said they forgave the Valentines after they learnt why they'd been targeted, but Lisa and Padma looked uncertain and Harry didn't think they were quite so keen to visit Lynott Manor in future. Like Theo, Padma didn't remember any of what happened, but Lisa could and she was more nervous about it all, understandable given what happened to her.

Harry got the full truth of why the demons targeted them when they got home, and he looked between his parents as he sat in the family room with a mug of hot cocoa.

"So... it's over now then? No more capturing demons? No more trying to break my deal?"

"Yes," Lorna said apologetically, but Harry noticed Gabriel looked less sorry.

"Dad?"

"We still have Crowley. The demon permitted us to keep him and do whatever we please. I can still try and get him to void the deal."

"Don't."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't do it, Dad," Harry requested. "Just leave it be."

Lorna just looked sad, but Gabriel was stunned. "You want me to stop trying to save you? To save my son?"

"Yes!" he cried, then sighed. "Look, I get that you don't want me to die. It's going to hurt more than I can imagine, but I don't want you to."

"You _want_ to die?"

"No, but I've accepted it, Dad. I accepted it years ago and you trying to save me is just making life hard. You're grumpy all the time and instead of making the most of time you have left with me, you spend half your time messing with demons. And that demon might have lied, it might use this as an excuse to come after us again. I don't need you to save me, Dad, please. Just give it a rest and let me spend time with you before I die."

"I can't, Harry. You're my son; I can't just let you die without trying to stop it. I will improve my mood and I will spend time with you, but I have to try and save you."

Harry sighed, but he was too tired to press the issue so he just finished his drink and headed to bed. He tried to discuss it again the next day, but Gabriel was adamant and nothing Harry said would make him change his mind. He at least kept his word about improving his mood and Harry got to spend time with him, just relaxing together in front of the TV, wandering around the gardens at night, or going flying on the Thestrals.

Gabriel also loosened his strictness on leaving the house now there was less threat from the demons, and Harry took the chance to go out alone and do some things that he realised he needed to. He'd been tidying his room when it occurred to him that he should decide what to do with all his things and write a will. He knew his parents would handle the majority of his belongings, which was fine, but he wanted to decide on some things—notably, his Gringotts vaults and the house on Spinner's End.

His parents and Tori certainly didn't need them and after thinking it over, he wrote to Gareth to ask if there was anything in Snape's old house that he wanted. After getting a reply in the negative, but some helpful advice, he visited Gringotts, emptied the vault he'd inherited from Snape, and shut the account down. It wasn't much compared to what was in the Potter vault, and next to the Valentine fortune it was barely tuppence, but it was enough for what he wanted and there was no point leaving two vaults open.

That done, he went to Spinner's End and cleared out the house. On Gareth's advice, he boxed up the books to donate the rarer ones to magical libraries and give the rest to secondhand shops, then destroyed the old furniture, took down the bookcases, pulled up the carpets, stripped the kitchen, and thoroughly cleaned everything from top to bottom, inside and out. He delivered the books to the shops, visiting several to get rid of them all, and took the rest home until he could contact the libraries to find out who would take them—some of the books were extremely dark, so not everywhere would be willing to have them.

He bought new carpets for the whole house and booked an appointment to have it installed, then had the kitchen refitted. The day after it was done, he bought furniture, paint, and the rest of the things needed to fill a home. Magic meant he didn't have to worry about furniture delivery, he just shrunk it down in the shop and walked out with it in his pocket to resize when he got there.

He left it all small and safely in a carrier bag until after he painted—which he also did with magic, large sweeps of his wand slathering paint across the walls far more evenly and quickly than he could manage by hand, also ensuring he didn't get any on the new carpets and letting him dry it in an instant so the furniture could be put in place without waiting. He stocked the kitchen with everything it needed except the actual food, put away towels and bedding in the airing cupboard, and put up a few generic pieces of artwork. He cut the grass and trimmed the hedges in the garden, removed a few overhanging branches on the fruitless apple tree, and added some garden furniture.

After, he looked around, satisfied. Most of it was still a bit bland, lacking the personal touch of knick knacks and photos, but it looked good. Better, he thought a little guiltily, than it ever had when he was a child. He hadn't skimped on the furniture, so there was a big comfy bed, a luxurious three seater sofa, and a plush armchair. He'd bought a TV, video player, and a small collection of films, but set the system up in an enclosed cabinet that, when shut, gave no indication of what was behind it.

The real pride of the house, however, was the second bedroom, that one that he used to sleep in every summer. It was now an office, a gorgeous mahogany desk in pride of place. There was a single tall bookshelf, some other storage spaces, and he'd stocked the room with parchment, paper, and notebooks, and quills, inks, and Muggle pens. As far as he could tell, it had everything an aspiring writer could want, short of perhaps a computer or typewriter.

With the house done, his next task was writing out his will, which he took to Gareth to act as executor and witness. It wasn't hard to do as there wasn't much to it. He wanted certain of his belongings passed onto Tori, Lego Hogwarts given to his currently unborn nibling (even if the child wouldn't be able to play with it for several years), and Spinner's End and the Potter Gringotts vault to go to Theo. Theo hated gifts, but Harry, knowing it was manipulative but doing it anyway, had no intention of telling him about it beforehand so Theo wouldn't be able to refuse it and would have to accept it as Harry's dying wish. It meant Theo didn't have to worry about finding somewhere to live or making sure he had enough money to keep himself afloat until he got a job or published a book.

After that, all he had left was preparing for his funeral. This turned out harder than he imagined. Despite his acceptance of death, thinking about what he wanted to happen to his body afterwards was depressing. All he knew was that he wanted to be buried near his birth parents, so he bought a burial plot and left the information with Gareth. The rest of the details he'd let his parents decide when the time came. Maybe it was callous or selfish, but he didn't know what he personally wanted, and his one effort at discussing it with them ended with Lorna crying and Gabriel storming out the room.

This led Harry to doing something he'd never dared before. He knew the east wing had spells on it to detect any human that entered or left, which is why he and Tori had never managed to sneak in undetected, but he also knew how to remove the spells. He hadn't done it before out of fear of punishment, but now he decided what he wanted was more important, and he'd put them back up afterwards.

He picked a time when he knew Lorna was in her workshop and Gabriel out in his rose garden, cast an Invisibility Spell on himself, and used a few spells to hide his scent and muffle not only his footsteps but also the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat. Once sure he would be undetectable even to vampire senses, he snuck into the throne room and across to the doors to the east wing. With a tap of his wand and a mutter of, " _Ecri artae icrium_ ," the Human Detection Spells fell away and he used a one-way See Through Spell to check there was no one on the other side that would see the door opening before he slipped through.

The east wing was at least a third of the size of the entire rest of the house combined and it took him forty heart-racing minutes to find the place where Crowley the demon was kept. He ignored all the doors that were unlocked, made ample use of the one way See Through Spell, and almost regretted it when he saw vampires feeding, having sex, and doing both at the same time.

Eventually he found a windowless room with a devil's trap. There was no one inside it, but he found a jar full of black smoke. It had a chain wrapped around it and when he checked it for spells he found it enchanted with a complicated spell to restrain demons.

He peered inside and shook it. Was it really Crowley? He knew that demons took the form of black smoke when they weren't possessing a host body or in hell, but how could he tell which was which in this state? He had to assume it was, though; Gabriel and Lorna had to release all the others. But how had Gabriel been trying to convince Crowley to break the deal like this? Could Crowley talk in this form? Or had Gabriel been bringing in people for Crowley to possess sometimes?

Figuring he might as well try, he said hesitantly, "Are you Crowley?"

The jar shook in his hands, making him jump, and there was a noise like distant screams. "Is that a yes?"

It happened again.

"I'm taking that as a yes," he said, but it didn't really matter. He knew one curse that could kill demons, an ancient one in a language with a lot of vowels, and he couldn't help finding the irony of it amusing. This demon was responsible for giving Harry the means to kill him, and Harry was repaying him by doing exactly that.

He put the jar on the floor in the middle of the devil's trap, stepped back, and opened it with a spell. The smoke poured out, but the trap kept it contained to only that area, and he levelled his wand at it. The curse rolled off his tongue with all the ease of every other spell, but it looked like none he'd ever seen. A lot of curses materialised as light when they left the wand, but what came out now was nothing—not a lack of effect, but _nothing_ , as if a wormhole spilled out his wand, opening up like some giant monstrous mouth to envelope the demonic smoke. Crowley, despite having no mouth, somehow managed to make a noise unlike Harry had every heard before as the wormhole wrapped around him, sealed itself, and then shrunk and shrunk until it disappeared.

Harry stood for a moment. He wondered if it was true that killing the demon who held his contract would cancel it out. He assumed Crowley was that demon, but if anything had changed then Harry didn't feel it and he could still remember all the spells. He didn't mind. For him, killing Crowley was just another moment of acceptance, another acknowledgement of the coming end, not an effort in avoidance.

Knowing Gabriel would find out sooner or later, he left, re-established the Human Detection Spells, removed the charms on his person, and headed out to the rose garden. Gabriel was just sitting on a bench and Harry joined him, sitting in silence for a little while. It was cold, December already on them, but a quick warming charm took care of that.

Eventually Harry said quietly, "I need to tell you something."

Gabriel didn't take his gaze off the rose bushes. "You sound ominous, but I can't imagine what you have to say that could—"

"I killed Crowley."

There was a pause. Gabriel still didn't look around. Harry's heart was pounding heavily and he knew his father would hear it. He didn't look up, eyes on the damp grass at his feet, and braced himself for the angry outburst.

It didn't come. "Why?" Gabriel asked quietly, sad but not angry.

"Because I needed this to be done. I need you to accept that I'm going to die."

"I could have stopped it."

"No, Dad, you couldn't. If you could, it would have happened already. I've got one month left and I needed you to stop denying it. It's over. I'm going to die. Please accept that."

Gabriel said nothing. When Harry glanced up, he was shocked to see tears running down his father's face. The sight of it made his own eyes water and he swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"If you're apologising for killing Crowley, don't. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have done it."

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry this is putting you through so much pain."

Gabriel said nothing, just pulled him into a hug and held him for a long time.

* * *

Hogwarts term ended on the nineteenth and Tori was exceptionally glad to get home and be able to rest for the last few weeks of her pregnancy. She wouldn't be going back for the new term on the twelfth, and when she was ready to go back after the birth then she would become a day pupil, Flooing into the school every day for classes then coming home afterwards; the connection had already been set up earlier that month.

Seeing Tori was the only time Harry felt guilty rather than just sad about his approaching death; he couldn't imagine that the stress of losing a brother was good for Tori or her child and the baby was due just six days after his death.

Theo came to Lynott Manor for the break as well. He was even quieter than usual, sad and struggling to hide it, overcoming his shyness completely to show affection to Harry at all times. Harry loved having him close again, but he hated the sadness in Theo.

He hated the sadness in the whole house. Gabriel and Lorna had mentioned not having Saturnalia celebrations that year, but Harry had put his foot down about that. Like hell were they cancelling Saturnalia to sit around moping about his impending death. Of course, the whole nest knew he was going to die so even when they did happen they were still notably more subdued than before, especially after last year's huge celebrations.

But it worked to some degree. He saw his parents smile for the first time in days, sitting together and watching Jennifer and Ravella dancing amongst several other vampires one night. Tori seemed happy accepting gifts from the vampires over the days, many of which were for the baby rather than her. Even Theo cracked a few smiles, especially when Harry presented him with a bag of weed as a present.

"Where'd you get this?"

"You think I don't know how to find a drug dealer?"

"They're not exactly the sort of people you just stumble across."

"You just have to know where to look," Harry said, and suggested they head outside to smoke it, still keeping to his mother's request that he not smoke inside the house and definitely not wanting it to get anywhere near Tori.

"I have a present for you as well," Theo said when they were outside and rolling up, "but I can't give it to you yet."

"Why not?"

"It's a surprise."

"When do I get it?"

"When I say so. It might be kind of late, but I think you'll like it."

They stayed out until their munchies drove them inside in search of food. Lorna found them stuffing their faces in the pantry, which they'd convinced themselves was an excellent hiding place, and sent them to bed with a sigh but didn't tell them off for smoking. Even the next morning she only asked if they'd come down, expression disapproving, but didn't actually scold them.

Theo had had a lot more than Harry and still seemed to be feeling it so Harry wasn't surprised when Theo said he was going to have a nap that afternoon. Half an hour later, when Harry was wandering around near the front of the house to keep warm as he smoked a cigarette, he was surprised to glance up to see Theo sneaking out the front door. Harry was half hidden behind a bush at that point and he made to step out and wave Theo over, but stopped when he saw Theo glance around furtively, clearly looking for anyone that might see him, even looking up at the windows when he moved away from the house. When he thought he was clear, he hurried down the driveway towards the street.

Curious, Harry put out his cigarette, vanished it, and quietly followed his boyfriend. He noticed Theo was carrying a small box and wondered if this had something to do with his Saturnalia present, which made him wonder if he shouldn't be following, but curiosity overwhelmed him, especially when Theo turned right out of the gate, heading down the street in the opposite direction of the village. All there was in this direction were a couple of small roads coming off their street before the official border of the village, beyond which there were only fields lining either side as the street headed towards the major A-road. Unless he was just going for a walk, which it didn't look like, Theo had no reason to go this way. It was too far to walk to Nottingham, the nearest bus stop was in the other direction, and North Arlett, which was bigger than South Arlett and had a takeaway and a small village shop, was most easily reached through the woodland at the back of Lynott Manor.

Only when Theo reached the two roads coming off the street did Harry begin to suspect what he was doing—when he realised that Theo now stood at the centre of a crossroads. The streets were laid in concrete, but with a spell it was easy enough to dig out a chunk and Harry watched with a sinking heart as Theo did exactly that, crouching and placing the box into the hole then covering it up again.

" _Theo!_ "

Theo whirled, eyes widening in horror when he saw Harry running towards him. "Harry, what the fuck? Did you follow me?"

Harry didn't answer that. The demon had just appeared, a young woman in a red dress, and Harry jerked his wand up and ran past Theo, stopping and placing himself directly between him and the demon.

"Harry, stop!"

" _No!_ " he shoved Theo back when he tried to grab at Harry's arm or push him aside; the demon just watched them both, red eyes matching her red dress, apparantly untouched by the winter chill. "I'm not letting you make the same mistake I did."

"I'm doing this for you!" Theo yelled. "I'm trying to save your life!"

"At the cost of your own! That's not worth it!"

"It is to me!" Harry glanced at him. Theo clung to his wand arm, trying to pull it down, his own wand in his other hand but not raised, and there were tears in his eyes. "I've thought about this for months and it's the only way to save you."

"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head, tears filling his own eyes. "I won't let you, Theo."

"Harry, please," Theo begged, "I can't let you die. I lost my mother, I can't lose you too. You're the only person I have left. Please, just let me do this."

"Theo, I can't. I'm sorry, I know this hurts, but I will never forgive myself for letting you go to hell in my place. I can't let you die for me."

"Harry..."

Harry ignored him, gaze shifting back to the demon. "Leave. Now."

Theo shoved him and surprised Harry with a silently cast Blasting Hex that knocked him off his feet and into the brambles lining the side of the road. Swearing, Harry struggled to extract himself as he heard Theo say urgently, "I want to make a deal: me for him. Harry doesn't die from his deal."

"If that's what you want..."

"It is. Now, please!"

Harry wrenched himself out, thrust his wand in the direction of the two figures that were about to kiss, and yelled, " _Arkamda olsun!_ "

There was no light, but the demon staggered away just before her lips met Theo's. She screamed and black smoke poured out of her, coiling up over her head before swirling away into the distance, and the young woman she'd been possessing collapsed.

" _NO!_ " Theo screamed, dropping down and shaking the woman as if it'd make the demon return. "No, come back, come back!"

Harry went over, kneeling beside him and reaching out to touch his arm only to have his hand knocked away as Theo started crying. He checked on the woman, but there was no pulse in her throat, and he looked back to Theo.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you do it."

" _Why?_ " he choked out between sobs. The sound of it broke Harry's heart and he nearly regretted what he'd done, but only nearly.

"I won't let you die for me, Theo."

"It's not _fair!_ " he screamed. "It's not fair! You're all I've got left! I've lost everything, why do I have to lose you too? Why couldn't you just let me save you?"

"I couldn't," was all Harry whispered, reaching for him again, and this time Theo let him pull him into a hug, clutching at Harry's cloak and sobbing into his shoulder.

* * *

The rest of the month and the first few days of January made Lynott Manor progressively gloomier. It was as if Harry had already died, everyone walking around with miserable expressions, the sound of crying from behind a half-closed door not uncommon. It made Harry feel awful and he took to avoiding his family, spending most of his time with Theo, both because Theo seemed eager to get as much time together as possible and because he didn't want Theo sneaking off to try another demon deal. Theo even took to sleeping in his room, levitating his bed through from his guest room.

Samantha was a comfort as well; he'd told her he was going to die, but she never really understood the concept of things happening in the future and mostly she was just concerned about someone feeding her. He wondered if he should feel offended, but he was just grateful that she wasn't moping about him, too.

On the third of January, Anita turned up. She Flooed into the manor and asked to stay for her last few days and Harry was immensely grateful for her presence. Somehow it made it easier to have someone else there that was going through what he was, for them to be able to admit to each other that they were scared of what was coming. She had gone home briefly after returning from India, but she still couldn't bring herself to admit to her mother what was going to happen, even knowing how heartbreaking it was going to be for Mrs Darzi when she learnt of her daughter's death.

That night, Theo surprised Harry. They had taken to cuddling before bed for so long that a few times Harry had fallen asleep wrapped in Theo's arms, stirring briefly or not at all when Theo slipped back to his own bed, but that night as they lay together, Theo asked quietly, "Do you want to sleep with me?"

Harry, back to Theo, twisted his head to look, but their position wouldn't let him get a proper view of Theo's face. "You want to?"

"I want to try. For you."

"I'd like that, if you're okay with it."

"I am."

He thought that was it, but ten minutes later, Theo spoke again. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

That time, Harry drew away so he could roll over and look him in the face. "Do you want to?" he asked again.

"I'm willing to try, for you," he said, but it wasn't the same as _I want to try_. "If you want to, before..."

"I don't," Harry said honestly.

"You said before you're curious—"

"Not enough," Harry cut him off, quietly, pressing close, feeling the heat of Theo through their pyjamas. "I told you I can die a virgin and it's fine, and I will. I have you here, Theo, and that's all I really need, and if you can't stand sharing a bed with me for the whole night, that's okay too. Don't make yourself uncomfortable for me just because I'm dying. I would hate that. Just... just be how you have been, please? Love me and let me love you and let it be enough."

Theo said nothing, just kissed him, an apology and a promise, and Harry fell asleep clinging to him, but woke up the next morning alone in his bed.

The hallucinations started the next day. Harry couldn't read because the words kept shifting, images on TV would distort into weird shapes, and even the faces of people around him would suddenly twist into sunken, monstrous visages. By the morning of the sixth, he had to get his parents to send all the vampires into the east wing because for some reason their faces constantly looked like they had no skin. He couldn't even look at Gabriel and Lorna.

Anita left that morning on one of the Thestrals. She didn't want to bring hellhounds into the house and said she was going to the crossroads where they'd made their deal. The Thestral would be able to find its own way home.

"I'll join you later," Harry told her quietly as he walked with her to the stables. "My Dad's convinced he can make the house hellhound proof; I'm going to have to hex them and sneak out just before midnight."

"I'll see you then," she agreed, let him help her mount, and left.

When Harry got back to the house, it was to find Tori had gone into labour. He felt both guilty and grateful, certain that it was the stress of his impending death that triggered it but thankful it distracted everyone's attention away from him. Or almost everyone's. Theo stuck by him, holding his hand and refusing to leave even when Harry told him it looked like he was dead and rotting.

"Close you eyes if it bothers you, but I'm staying."

Harry sighed and did as suggested, sitting on the floor of his bedroom and leaning against his bed. "You have to leave me eventually, Theo. You can't be here at midnight when the hounds come for me."

"Don't worry," a voice said from the doorway, "I'll make sure he's unhurt."

Harry snapped his eyes open to see Gareth standing in the doorway. His face looked normal, for now, but the hallucinations came and went, just more frequently as time went on.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lord Valentine asked I come," Gareth answered, and Harry could guess that it had been an order rather than a request. With one child dying and the other giving birth, Gabriel probably wanted all the help he could get.

This was confirmed when Gabriel appeared at Gareth's shoulder. Harry closed his eyes because his father's face still look monstrous. "Mr Martin will be staying with you, Harry. He happens to be able to kill hellhounds."

"You can?" Theo asked, stunned. "That's perfect! Harry, you'll live."

Harry sighed again. "No, Theo, I won't. Even if Gareth can kill them, they'll just keep coming. That's how it works. You kill one and two more come after you, constantly, until they catch up. I have to sleep sometime and so does Gareth. All he can do is put it off."

"Is that true?" Theo asked. Harry wasn't sure if it was aimed at him or not, but Gareth answered.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

There was nothing more to say after that. Tori's midwife had already arrived, but Harry heard Tyler Swift turn up. He proved surprisingly enthusiastic about his unexpected parenthood, and Tori had told Harry that he'd even begged with Professor McGonagall to be allowed to leave Hogwarts on the weekends to come visit Lynott Manor after the baby was born. It shocked Harry, but when he mentioned this Tyler defended, "Hey, just 'cause I'm a player doesn't mean I never wanted kids, and just 'cause this is earlier than I planned doesn't mean I'm not involved."

He was the picture of the anxious father while Tori was giving birth, pacing restlessly in Harry's room, which for some reason had become the place where everyone hung around waiting, until Harry yelled at him to get out. It was getting late and he was tense, hallucinating almost constantly and even hearing wolf howls, which terrified him. He'd been doing his best not to think about the fact that what was going to happen to him was much like what happened when he was seven, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Gareth left with Tyler, and Gabriel moved over from the desk to sit by Harry, who was still on the floor by the bed. Lorna was in Tori's room with her and the midwife, well-fed so she wouldn't be affected by the scent of blood; she would only have to leave if something went wrong and Tori bled badly, but by the sounds of it things were going normally. Painfully if Tori's yells were anything to go by, but normally.

"Theo, can you give us a minute, please?" Gabriel asked.

Harry, eyes still closed to avoid the hallucinations, presumed Theo nodded because he said nothing but left Harry's side after squeezing his hand, and a moment later Harry heard the door click shut.

"I know you're going to try and leave later, Harry," Gabriel said quietly.

"You know Gareth won't be able to stop it. Even if he could put it off, it'd only be for six months. I know about him, about who he really is. I know what you did to him too."

"What I did?"

"The Animancupium Bond."

There was a brief pause and when Gabriel did reply it was with audible disapproval. "He told you about that?"

"No, so don't be mad at him. After the vampire war, Tori and I asked Mum about what really happened and she told me that the wizard who came to help you was under the Animancupium. I think she figured it was okay to tell me because she didn't think I'd know about the spell. Gareth had told me before then that he was under a compulsion curse, and I just put two and two together."

"Do you think me a bad person for it?"

Harry reached for Gabriel's hand, finding it and squeezing. "No. I did ask Gareth if it was him at the end of term on my last year, and he told me about how you treat him better than the other people that put him under the curse. I understand that he's always going to be under it and when you put it on him it was helping him by freeing him from his last Master who abused him. He told me you only ever asked him to protect me and Tori."

"I did." Gabriel's arm came around his shoulders and hugged him. "You two and Lorna are the most important people in my life. Protecting you is all I want to do."

"You can't protect me from the hounds, Dad," Harry said softly.

"I know. But at least let me protect you until your sister has given birth."

"That can sometimes take days, can't it?"

"Yes, but this won't. She's nearly there; it's maybe another hour or two. Stay long enough to meet the baby."

"Alright."

It was just over an hour. The screams intensified, Tyler nearly worked himself into a panic attack, but eventually Gabriel and Harry's advanced hearing picked up the midwife's voice saying, "It's out, it's out, you're done!"

They all stood, leaving Harry's room to hover about in the hallway until Tori's bedroom door finally opened and Lorna came out, smiling. "Come on."

"What is it?" Tyler asked, bouncing nervously but not moving towards the door. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's a girl."

Tyler gasped, but still didn't move until Gareth rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove, and then he rushed into the room. Gabriel entered next and Lorna gestured to the rest of them. "You can all come in."

Harry moved forwards, but he got just close enough to see the midwife and see her face morphing horribly, and he stepped back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he choked out, blinking and feeling tears spill down his face. "I'm sorry, I can't."

He grabbed his wand, flicked it to make the door jerk shut, and quickly hit it with the strongest locking and reinforcement charms he could. He couldn't go in there. He couldn't look at his newborn niece just to see her mutated by his hallucinations, nor did he want that to be the last thing he saw of his sister.

"Harry!" Lorna screamed, pounding against the wood. "Harry, open the door!"

He turned away. Theo raised his wand, expression determined, though it wavered slightly when he saw Harry's tears.

"Theo, don't make me hex you, please."

"Don't do this, Harry. Stay here, let us protect you."

"You can't. I have to leave before you all get hurt."

Theo shook his head, shifted the grip on his wand, and opened his mouth, but Gareth stepped up behind him, touched his head lightly, and he crumpled to the floor unconscious. Harry gaped at Gareth.

"I won't stop you, Harry."

"GARETH MARTIN, DON'T LET MY SON LEAVE THIS HOUSE!" Gabriel roared from Tori's room, soon followed by the baby's wailing and complaints from Tori and the midwife.

Gareth still didn't move, but his hands twitched at his sides. "Go," he said softly to Harry. "I can fight his orders for a while, but go now."

"Thank you." He crouched, bent over Theo, and pressed a kiss to his cheek, tears dripping onto the unconscious face. "I'm sorry, Theo. I love you," he whispered, then ran. He barely slowed for the staircases, yelled spells on his way to get the door to open and dismantle the charms that'd been put up earlier to keep him in and the hellhounds out, and ran down the driveway. He heard the hounds snarling, but couldn't tell how far or how close they were, and just kept running. More spells swung open the gates and then he was on the street and he Disapparated.

He reappeared where he'd agreed to meet Anita, and saw her immediately, standing with hands outstretched, three hellhounds surrounding her and struggling against some invisible force. They were as big as the werewolf that killed Severus, but skinnier, their fur coarse-looking and pitch black, and their eyes were bright red, gleaming in the dark, while their teeth were bared in vicious, drooling snarls. When Anita saw Harry, she grinned; it wasn't a happy smile, but she looked relieved to see him and he understood she was saying, _Ready?_

He wasn't, but they had no time left. Anita took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and dropped her hands. Immediately the hounds leapt.

It was just like watching Severus die, the claws tearing, jaws snapping, blood gushing everywhere. Harry's mind provided him with several useful spells: one that could kill the hounds, a couple that would at least put them out of commission for a while, and numerous protective and healing spells that could help Anita. But terror froze his limbs, left him stuck in place, wide-eyed and whimpering, and the scars on his face and back ached in remembered agony.

Only when the hounds finished with Anita and turned to him did he unfreeze. He staggered back and raised his wand in a trembling hand, but knew it was useless. Killing them would only put it off; more would come and he couldn't fight them all.

But he didn't want to die like this. He couldn't go through that again.

The dogs snarled, clawed at the ground, and charged.

Harry shifted the wand on himself.

" _Avada Kedavra_."


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue  
30th April 1998**

Gareth entered Lynott Manor through the front door, surprised to find the door opened for him by Tori rather than Ravella. She was ready for bed, a dressing gown on over her pyjamas, but had the baby tucked in the crook of one arm while a textbook floated alongside her.

"Professor! What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Lord Valentine."

She frowned, but stepped aside and let him enter. "Do you want me to get Mum as well?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm not worried about your father."

She raised a sceptical eyebrow and her textbook bobbed as she shut the door behind him, like it was trying to express its disbelief as well. "Really."

"Yes. It was a single incident. I don't believe it'll happen again."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Even so, he couldn't help rubbing at his face and remembering the pain of getting the ever living crap beat out of him by a vampire. After Harry had left the manor, Gareth had moved Theo into Harry's room and returned to the hallway to wait for Harry's spells to fail, as he knew they would when he died. It didn't take long and at the same moment Gareth heard a choked cry from Gabriel and Lorna; it confirmed to him the suspicion he'd long had that they'd given some blood to their children. It didn't create a connection anything close to what there was between himself and Gabriel, but if they'd given enough to Harry and Tori then they would be able to sense when they died.

He wasn't surprised when Gabriel left Tori's bedroom, took one loathing look at Gareth, and attacked. He hadn't used his teeth, perhaps because he really wanted to hurt rather than kill, and it _had_ hurt. Gareth had endured beatings before, but getting hit by a vampire was like crashing into a brick wall at thirty miles an hour. Unconsciousness had been a mercy and the week he spent in Saint Mungo's afterwards had been extremely unpleasant. The hardest part had been stopping Lupin from going after Gabriel in revenge; he was furious, even after learning about Harry's death, but he couldn't take on Gabriel even at the best of times. Right then, with Gabriel full of hurt and anger, the vampire wouldn't hesitate to kill Lupin.

Harry's body, and Anita's, had been fetched shortly after their deaths. Harry's had been intact—apparently he'd killed himself rather than let the hellhounds get him, and the dogs weren't interested in dead meat; his soul still went to hell no matter how he died—but there had been little left of Anita's. The Valentines had at least made sure what was left was returned to her mother for a proper Sikh funeral.

Harry's funeral had been six days after his death, held after dark, and it fell on the night of the full moon. Lupin had been furious, but Gareth was quietly glad for it; he knew half the Valentines' nest would be in attendance, showing their support for their leader, and it would have been too dangerous for Lupin. Gabriel and Lorna wouldn't let anyone ruin their son's funeral by making a scene at the grave, but Gareth wasn't convinced their orders would be enough when Gabriel himself was so full of heartbroken anger and Lupin was just as distressed. Both of them in attendance would have been a disaster.

Lorna and Tori didn't blame Gareth for what happened, but Gabriel and Theo both did. Theo ignored him in classes, doing all his work but never so much as glancing towards Gareth, who didn't bother to call on him to answer questions anymore. If it made Theo feel better to hate him, then Gareth would let him.

Gabriel's reaction was harder to deal with. After the beating, he'd told Gareth not to come around the manor ever again, and for months Gareth had obeyed, despite the growing ache through his whole body as the Bond tugged at him to be with his Master. Now, however, he needed to disobey that order, even if that hurt him too.

He refocused on Tori, nodding to the baby in her arms. "How's Billie?"

"Keeping me up," Tori huffed, but nevertheless smiled fondly at the sleeping child.

Billie Elizabeth Valentine. The surname had been a point of contention. Tori insisted they use hers, but Tyler wanted his as well, after learning the baby was definitely his. Gareth hadn't realised it was ever in doubt. They planned to hyphenate the surname, but Dylan and Olivia Swift refused to let a bastard child bare their name even in part and swore to disown Tyler if they tried, and a complete magical disownment forcibly stripped a child of their surname. Tyler would be forced to take his birth mother's surname, which he refused, or be literally called 'Tyler Nobody' unless he married or was adopted.

"Looks like you're making good use of your time anyway," Gareth remarked, gesturing to the floating textbook, which had apparently got bored at being ignored and was drifting away. Tori grabbed at it and dragged it closer again.

"Might as well," she said. "NEWTs in five weeks and I'm damn well proving wrong all the kids that are saying I can't keep up with my work."

"Glad to hear it. Your housemates aren't giving you trouble, are they?"

"God, no, they're great. Helping me study and everything. It's mostly Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass who think I _can't_ do it, but the Hufflepuffs are more annoying to be honest. Susan and Hannah are really nice, but they're always _fussing_ and saying I should worry about myself and Billie instead of my NEWTs. Ernie Macmillan keeps telling me I shouldn't do them at all and should just focus on looking after Billie. I never realised he was the kind of guy who thought women should stick to babies and housekeeping. I always thought he was kind of nice. Pompous, but nice."

Gareth laughed. "Yes, it can be a surprise how some people turn out. Anyway, I won't keep you. Where's your father?"

"Office. You sure you don't want me to call Mum?"

"I'm fine, Tori. Get back to your study; we're revising poisons in class tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Gareth headed for Gabriel's office as Tori started slowly pacing the foyer, book floating along in front of her. Gabriel's door was open when he reached it, the vampire laid across his sofa, eyes closed, hands resting on his stomach.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Need to talk, m'lord."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Well I do." Gareth shut the door, knowing the room was sound-proofed even from other vampires' ears, and moved to lean against the desk. Despite his reassurances to Tori, his heart rate did pick up slightly at being shut in with Gabriel, but it was an instinctual reaction that he ignored. He had hundreds of years of dealing with abusive Masters; one beating, even such an incredibly violent one, wasn't enough to make him truly afraid. "I'm dying tomorrow."

"A joyous occasion. I shall dance on your grave."

"As will Theo Nott, I'm sure, but there won't be anything in it. I don't know what happens to my body when my loop resets, whether it is just left dead, nor what the cause of death appears to be in such a case, or if it disappears or something."

"Should I care?"

Gareth sighed. "I just wanted to warn you that I'm going to commit suicide tomorrow evening, before the loop resets that night. I'll cause a potion explosion big enough to destroy my body. You might hate me now, but you're still going to feel it when I die and I understand it can be unpleasant."

"Your concern is noted. Is there anything else?"

"No," Gareth said quietly.

"Then don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Gareth started to leave, but he heard the soft sound of a sad sigh just before the door clicked shut behind him, and it made him go back in, slamming the door shut behind him. "Give me something," he demanded.

Gabriel sat up, eyes cold as he looked Gareth over. "Exactly what do you expect from me, Mr Martin?"

It honestly hurt to be addressed like that, no longer worthy of his first name, but Gareth still went forward and dropped to his knees in front of Gabriel. "I'm dying tomorrow. I don't know what it'll be like for you and I don't know how it'll feel for you once I'm gone, whether you'll still feel the connection or not, but for me it's going to be ghastly. I'm still going to feel you, m'lord. When my loop resets, I'm still going to be aware of the impossible distance between us and you have no idea what that's going to be like for me. I have to live with that for who knows how long, until someone else manages to tie me down long enough to steal my Bond, and I will fight anyone that does just as hard as I fought you. Please, just... give me something."

Gabriel lifted a hand and Gareth ducked his head, closing his eyes. He didn't know if Gabriel planned to hit him or pet him, and truthfully he didn't care because it was contact either way. He tensed when the hand came down on his shoulder, but didn't pull away and had to fight not to lean in closer to the vampire.

"You let my son die."

Gareth said nothing. He'd said all he could on the matter; even if he'd protected Harry in January, he couldn't after tomorrow. Harry was always going to die, unless he was forever trapped inside a place enchanted with the strongest protections known to man, constantly hiding from the hellhounds that would never stop coming for him. And what kind of life would that have been?

Gabriel's hand shifted to Gareth's hair and his other came up, clasping Gareth's head between them. Gareth wondered if Gabriel planned to kill him then, to crush his skull in his bare hands; he was certainly capable of it. But Gabriel just sighed softly and kissed his hair.

"I know why you let him go, but I will never forgive you for it. All I can give you is my understanding, and one last order: when your loop resets, find someone you trust, have them take your Bond, and do not fight them when they do. Do not consider this a gift: whether I will continue to feel the connection or not, I do not want you any longer." The hands and lips left his head. "Leave now."

Gareth opened his eyes and stood, looking down at Gabriel a moment longer before bending at the waist in a deep bow and leaving without a word.

Not a gift indeed. When his loop reset, either he fought the order and suffered for it, or he obeyed and felt the emotional turmoil over abandoning his Master. Stuck between two equally horrible things, it would feel like he was being pulled apart by horses.

Tori was gone from the foyer and Gareth let himself out, moving quickly down the driveway and Disapparating when he reached the street. He reappeared in London, near the building where Lupin lived, and walked up quickly to his lover's flat, letting himself in and surprising Lupin, who sat at his computer, frowning at a blank word document. Gareth came up behind him, draping himself across Lupin's shoulders.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," Lupin greeted, turning his head to accept a kiss on the mouth, but then he frowned. "Have you been to the Valentines? You smell like vampires."

"Don't get in a state about it. I needed to talk to him."

Lupin's scowl impressed even Gareth and a low growl rumbled out of him.

"Remus, stop it. I'm fine. He didn't touch me."

"You shouldn't have gone there."

"Remus, please. Drop it, alright? I got McGonagall to let me have the night off. Come to bed."

"McGonagall let you have the whole night? On a Thursday?"

"I'm very convincing. Come to bed, Remus."

Lupin was still frowning. "Are you alright? Did Valentine do—"

" _No._ Stop it. I don't want to talk about Lord Valentine. I'm pining for you and I want you to come to bed and make love to me until the sun rises."

Lupin finally relaxed a little. "I can do, but you have classes to teach tomorrow. Might be awkward to turn up walking funny and suffering from lack of sleep."

"I've got first, fifth, and seventh years. The firsties are too innocent to realise what it means and the fifths and sevenths are too worried about their exams to notice. Everyone else I can avoid. Don't make me beg, Remus."

Lupin smiled, relaxing completely now. "Why not? I like it when you beg."

"Get me in the bedroom and I will beg from on my knees."

"Well I can't ignore an offer like that, can I?"

Gareth grinned, kissing him. He meant it to be chaste so they could move on, but Lupin grabbed him by the back of the head and deepened it, kissing him hard enough to leave him breathless and humming happily when they broke apart. Lupin stood, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bedroom, kissing him again and making short work of unclothing him before pushing him back onto the bed and crawling over him. He kissed him again, softer this time, brief.

"Gareth, are you sure you alright? Even for you, you're unusually keen."

Gareth smiled up at him and took his face in both hands. "I'm fine, Remus. Just hopelessly in love and desperate to show it to you."

Lupin eyed him a moment longer then smiled and kissed him. Gareth didn't let himself feel guilty. It would do Lupin no good to discover the truth at this point; better for him to think Gareth died in an accident tomorrow than to learn that Gareth had kept such a huge secret from him. Gareth knew from experience that telling loved ones about his time loop so late never ended well, and he could only imagine what they must feel after he was gone.

So he just kissed back and sought to make his last night one to remember.

 _ **~ finis ~**_

* * *

 **A/N:** That's all, folks. Reviews are much appreciated, whether good or bad. Thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it!

I currently have no plans for a sequel, but that doesn't mean I'll never write one. Similarly, I may or may not write more stories about/including Gareth. If you're not aware, he is in my other story _For the Price of a Soul_ , but be warned that it is not as well written as _Butterfly Wings_ , Gareth isn't as nice (it's set later in his timeline), and it's considerably darker; be sure to heed the warnings if you do decide to read it.


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